The Person You Love
by Angelstalon
Summary: It's the most wonderful and amazing thing in the world. Love is hope. It fills our dreams. And If you're in it, you need to enjoy it. You need to be with the person you love.
1. Chapter 1

It's been a while since I wrote anything, and I'm going to make this a short one with only a couple more chapters because I've learned I cannot write and keep up with anything lengthy. Between work and classes and volunteering and looking for internships oh, and I sleep somewhere in there too... ugh. No time. But I'll do the best with what I have. Anyway...

I've always had a soft spot for Beauty and the Beast, and I always had a soft spot for Rumplestilskin (and yes, its -ple- not -pel-, look at the dagger) so when they combined them, well, you're reading this story, you know the thoughts and feelings. I had a creative moment and... this was born. I own the plot, not the characters, blah blah, and all those other disclaimery things that should be mentioned here. So, here goes:

* * *

><p>It's the most wonderful and amazing thing in the world. Love is hope. It fills our dreams. And If you're in it, you need to enjoy it. You need to be with…<p>

**The Person You Love**

It had been a little more than a week since Isabelle French had joined the real world. A fire evacuated all occupants from the hospital and while assisting with the disaster Sheriff Swan had stumbled upon the small, shivering, and entirely sane Belle. After piles of paper work and a thorough examination by Dr. Hopper, Belle now found herself on a lovely (for March) Sunday morning, seated at the bar in Granny's Diner, with newfound friends Emma, Mary Margaret, and Ruby.

"Ruby," Granny was looking out the front windows, concern on her face, "What is today?"

"Sunday," Ruby chirped back, her usual bubbly self. Then her mood tanked as a sudden realization dawned, "The first Sunday of the month," she groaned.

"What does that have to do with anything? What's wrong?" Mary Margaret inquired.

She was ignored as Granny bustled about, going to the cash register, "We do have it all, right Ruby?"

Ruby grimaced, "No… we're still short two-hundred dollars."

"If you had let me pay you," Belle chimed in, scowling, "you might have that two-hundred dollars. What is it for anyways?"

"Nonsense girl," Granny waved her off, "It's not your fault we don't have the money, people just aren't eating out like they used to. With you and your circumstances I am happy to house you until you get back on your own two feet."

"Belle," Emma turned to her, "You're about to meet one of Storybrooke's most prominent citizens. Just keep your head down and your mouth shut and you'll be fine."

"I don't understand," she protested, "What's the big deal?"

It was Mary Margaret's turn to address her, "Mr. Gold is a very difficult man. He'll find any way to make you owe him a debt and he won't be forgiving about it. As long as you make yourself invisible to him, you'll be fine."

The door chimed behind them as it opened and an impeccably dressed man sauntered in, slowly glancing around, with a smirk on his face. Belle did as she was told and kept her head down and her back to him, noticing other diner guests doing the same. He made his way to the register, and as Belle peeked out of the corner of her eye she saw that he walked with the aid of a gold-handled cane.

"I assume you know why I'm here," he spoke to Granny softly, but Belle still noticed, and oddly enjoyed, his gentle accent. He held out a hand, and Granny hesitantly placed a bundle of money in it.

"It's not all there," she admitted, "I'm short two-hundred dollars."

He made eye contact with her, his expression unchanging, "That is… unfortunate. Surely you know what that means." Granny cringed at his words.

"Wait!" Ruby started, "I have the money."

"Then why, pray tell, is it not here?" he asked her, holding up the bundle of cash.

"It's part of my personal funds…" she sighed, "I was saving up to take an online class, but I will write you a check for the rest of the money."

"Yeah, you will." He stated matter-of-factly.

Belle couldn't stay silent any longer. This man was no better than a thief. "You bastard," she snarled.

His gaze snapped over to her and was glaring daggers; "I'm sorry, do I kno-" he stopped talking as she straightened up on her stool, looking at him above Mary Margaret's shoulders. Emma elbowed Belle sharply in the side, but Belle took no notice and started to speak, interrupting him, not caring what question he was about to ask.

"You bastard. Is it not bad enough this poor family has to break the bank to appease you, now you're making them postpone, possibly even ruin, their life's goals just so you can have a little bit more money? You certainly look like you would be able to survive with two-hundred dollars less this month; I think you can give them a break." Belle stopped to breathe, but only one breath before she was at it again. She did not even register the look of horror on his face, "And all that just to have a little bit of power. It makes me sick. All you care about is power. You would do anything to find it, ruin anyone's life to achieve it, and destroy your own happiness to have it. You make me sick." She finally ended her little speech, the last four words dripping with verbal venom.

At this point the entire diner was aware of the exchange between the two of them, eyes now focused on Mr. Gold and his coming reaction. His mouth still hung open, the expression on his face one of complete shock and something else no one would ever have expected on a man of his distinction: heartbreak. Belle's vision was too clouded with anger to notice. He snapped his mouth shut and roughly swallowed, quickly replacing his mask of coldness. He took a deep breath and then slammed his hand down on the counter and walking as quickly and prideful as he could back out the door. As he stormed past on the sidewalk outside Belle began to calm down, and when he paused outside a window and locked eyes with her, that same broken look on his face, she finally saw it.

"What _was_ that?" Emma gaped, as Belle spun to face the counter and her now cold hot chocolate.

"My life was ruined because of someone's drive for power. That evil mayor kept me locked away so I could be used as leverage, so she could have power over someone else. Thank goodness that fire happened or who knows whose life she would have used me to wreck. I cannot stand people who think themselves so great that the lives of those below them do not matter. Everyone matters and everyone deserves a chance. When that wretched man was going to take away Ruby's chance at a better future, I couldn't just sit and watch," Belle finished, shaking her head.

"Belle," Mary Margaret put a hand on her knee, "Whatever you said affected him in some way. Mr. Gold left without the money.

* * *

><p>Later that evening Belle sat at the table in Mary Margaret and Emma's apartment, picking at her dinner. "What's eatin' ya?" Emma asked through a mouthful of potato.<p>

"Table manners," Mary Margaret scowled at her. If she didn't know they were only friends, and the same age, Belle would almost say Mary Margaret was Emma's mother. She was always correcting and critiquing, but loving and caring as well.

"I dunno," Belle mumbled, "I just keep going back to what I said to Mr. Gold."

"Don't." Emma told her, "The man is a dick. He deserved everything you said to him."

"I know and I might not feel bad except… that look he gave me. Emma, I think I _hurt_ him." Belle paused in thought. "I need to go apologize. Excuse me." She pushed away from the table and grabbed her coat, heading out the door.

As she walked, very quickly, down the evening lit sidewalks she only hoped he would be in his shop. Belle turned the corner and saw the shop at the end of the street, a light still on inside. She had to stop herself from jogging as she got closer and closer to the door. She could finally see the small blue sign that read: OPEN. She slowed her pace a little, but only little; just in case the sign was turned before she reached the door. Finally she made to the door, and slowly pushed it open, walking inside, with a little jingling bell announcing her arrival.

The scene before her almost took her breathe away. The store seemed to stretch on forever with so many objects, and so many memories. All of them, she presumed, trophies and prizes taken from their owners as part of some sick twisted deal. All placed in the shop to torture their former possessors into someday buying them back at an extremely inflated price. But the thing that entranced her most, was the smell. It was… familiar.

The great and powerful Rumplestilskin had been sitting in the back of his shop, wrestling with his thoughts for hours upon hours since the morning's main event. When he woke up he was feeling as bitter and cold as ever. But now, now he was ready to tear his hair out. Belle was _alive_. Very much alive and very much upset with him. Very, very upset with him. And another thing: Regina had lied to him.

So some of the hours were spent rationalizing that he was hallucinating, and when that became an impossible option he spent time plotting to kill Regina, but not before breaking, no, _shattering_, her heart. And the rest of the time was spent thinking about how to fix things. How to fix all of the mistakes he had ever made both today, and thirty years ago.

Wherever Regina had kept her, however she had tried to taint her, he was certain of one thing. That beautiful, beautiful woman who defied him was still very much his Belle. The same voice, the same hair, the same crystalline blue eyes filled with the same bravery. He was roused from his thoughts by his bell.

"How can I he-" Mr. Gold stopped short upon realizing whose presence he was addressing. Roused by his Belle, indeed. "I'm terribly sorry Miss French but I am about to close up for the night and would appreciate it if you left." She could hear the tension in his voice.

"Mr. Gold," she began, the name sounding wrong when addressing him, for some reason, "I came to apologize for my outburst this morning. It was terribly inappropriate of me. I should have kept my mouth shut and stayed out of your business. I'm sorry."

He was silent, and it made her uneasy that she could not see his expression clearly in the dim light. The lighting was fortunate for him though, considering he was on the verge of breaking down, the same emotions from before plaguing him. Belle was _alive. _Regina had lied to him, but more importantly, Belle was _alive._ Revenge would have to wait.

Belle was here and doing the very thing he should have done the moment he saw her. _She_ should not be apologizing for anything. She had no idea everything she said was so amazingly true; especially the part about compromising his own happiness. If he hadn't been so damned scared of losing his powers… He couldn't think of how things might have been. Those thoughts only made the nights long and unbearable. "You are forgiven," he finally whispered.

"I know my outburst suggests otherwise, but I'm not really insane," she spoke softly, wondering why she felt the need to clarify this to the town's feared businessman. Perhaps so he doesn't try to con me into owing him anything, she reasoned.

"Oh I can see that, Miss French," he took a few steps towards her, allowing her to see his face now that he had secured his expression of emotionlessness, "Now if you'll excuse me I've had a long and humiliating day, and would very much like to go home." He damned himself for speaking to her so coldly.

"Yes, of course." She nodded, "You have a good night, Mr. Gold." She pushed open the door but paused before leaving, "I really am sorry," she glanced back at him one more time as the door closed behind her, and thought she again saw the brokenness.

"Me too," he choked out as she left, "Me too…"


	2. Chapter 2

It was a week after Belle's dramatic outburst at Mr. Gold (which meant two and half weeks of independence) and she hadn't seen even a passing glance of him since that Sunday evening in his shop. She hoped he wasn't secretly plotting revenge to destroy her. So far she hadn't seen any signs of it. She was able to get a job at the stables in the animal shelter and had gotten a generous bit of money from her father as a sort of apology present. She heard whispers of what Mr. Gold had done to him after missing a loan payment (and stealing from him, but people neglected to mention that part for her sake) and was reluctant to accept the money lest it happen again. Her father awkwardly assured her not to worry and to use the money for whatever she saw fit.

So Belle decided she had over stayed her welcome at Granny's and was going to find a place of her own.

"No dear I insist. Don't spend all that money on a down payment for an apartment, stay here a while longer. I insist." Granny pleaded with her.

"I'm sorry but I need to show people, and myself, that I'm capable of this. And besides, that's a good room you could use for someone else; someone else who will pay."

Granny laughed, "No one ever comes to town, and if they did they wouldn't stay the night. There's not anything here to stay for."

"Still," Belle persisted, "Let me do this for me."

"All right," Granny surrendered, "I know a place that's not only nice but it's cheap, too. You should be able to afford a monthly rent as well as extra for utilities, groceries, and some extra on top of that. But if you ever need a place to stay, you come see me. I'm more than happy to help you out."

"Thank you so much," Belle smiled at her, "you've been much to kind."

Belle went outside and took the mile long walk to the seaside, choosing a bench and pulling out her new cell phone (the cheapest one available but good enough for who it's for) and dialed the number on the napkin.

It only rang once before it was answered, "Mr. Gold speaking."

It took her off guard, to hear his voice on the other end, and also to realize she had missed it. She shook herself out of it, "Yes, Hi. Mr. Gold. It's Isabelle French, I'm the one who…" she trailed off, unsure of how to word it.

"Ah yes, I remember you," he answered casually, but inside his chest his heart was going out of control. He had literally gone out of his way to avoid her for a week, causing his bad leg three times as much pain, and now here she was, talking to him on the phone. He supposed it was better than seeing her face to face; the nights immediately following that Sunday were horrible. Nightmares and fantasies combined plagued him every time he closed his eyes, not to mention the memories during the conscious moments of the day. He didn't need that again, not after just getting her out of his head. "What can I help you with Miss French?"

"I'd like to rent an apartment," She informed him. Of course she wanted to rent an apartment, a process which required a tour, a transaction arrangement, and collection of funds after that. All of which was done in person.

"I'm sure we can make that a plausible achievement. Did you have one in mind?"

"Actually, yes. I was told the 'Tower' apartments were nice."

"Of course," he whispered. He was being torn apart by the irony, completely unnoticed by her. "It's required of me to give you a tour before you sign a rental agreement. When would you like to get that over with?"

"Wow," it was her turn to whisper, "Not very subtle about your feelings, are you?"

"You have no idea," he smiled to himself.

"Well, how about we get it over with today then. Perhaps I can even move in this evening."

"Yes," He agreed, his stomach sinking at the thought of another four or five nights of torture, "Let's." It would be worth it.

* * *

><p>"That's essentially all there is. It's a simple apartment, really," He finished up the three room tour, having successfully made no eye contact the entire time, but unsuccessfully avoiding looking at her all together. He would pay later, but again, it was worth it.<p>

"Where do I sign?" Belle beamed, ecstatic at the thought of being on her own and taking care of herself.

"Well," Mr. Gold settled into a chair, placing a black folder on top of the small dining table in front of him, "I'm asking for an initial down payment of six month's rent, and since it is pre-furnished I will need a larger safety deposit, which brings your total to two thousand dollars." He folded his hands atop the folder and looked at her, making eye contact for the first time all day.

"What?" Belle looked at him like he had just told her Regina was a fairy princess.

He smiled his usual half smile, "Is something wrong with that price?"

"It's so low," She was still stunned, "If that cost is six month's rent and a security deposit…Why is it so low?"

"Oh I don't know," He gestured with one hand in the air, "I've had a change of heart. I can raise it if you would like."

"No, you don't have to go and do that for my sake. I'm just wondering, what's the catch?" She eyed him suspiciously.

An idea began to construct itself in his mind. At first he pushed it away, but then… being a coward is what made this awful mess in the first place. "Just one small price to pay," he swallowed. It's now or never. She bit her lip nervously, and he wanted so badly to stop her in the act, to sweep her away and tell her 'Don't worry about the apartment, come and stay with me. Just like old times.' He desperately wanted to fall to his knees in front of her, begging for her to forgive him for being so damned cowardly and foolish.

But as much as she was still his Belle, she didn't know it. He would look like a fool and would ruin any chance he had at getting her back. He had to do this the proper way, "My small price is dinner. With me. I'll pay."

She looked at him apprehensively for a moment, and he was so worried he had blown it. But then nodded. Slowly the smile returned, "Where do I sign?"

* * *

><p>It had been thirty years since either person had fussed over their appearance. But on this Wednesday evening there was a perfectly legitimate reason. As Mr. Gold debated colors of ties and pocket squares, Belle fussed with her hair and the neckline of her new dress, purchased just for this occasion. It was a simple piece really, a straight, form fitting, soft golden dress with a scooping neckline. She settled with pulling her hair back and tying it away from her neck and shoulders. After putting on red lipstick and giving herself one final glance (and confidence booster) in the mirror, Belle locked up her apartment and headed to Mr. Gold's restaurant choice: <em>Le Chateau Noir<em>.

She stumbled a few times on her way to the eatery, a combination of getting used to her strappy three inch black heels (or rather getting the heel stuck in the sidewalk crack) and being deep in thought. She was relieved beyond words she didn't run into anyone she knew well on the way, and then having to explain where she was going for what and with whom.

She approached the tall black restaurant at almost the same time as her inviter and quickened her pace as he slowed his, both meeting in front of a bench next to the small stairs leading up to the door. He smiled, again only that half smile, and offered her his left arm, "You look stunning, Ms. French," He told her softly with that captivating accent of his. Luckily he had seen her coming down the sidewalk and had time to compose himself before she reached him, or he would still have been speechless and, very possibly, called the whole thing off. But he could not afford to be a coward. Not this time.

"Thank you for the compliment, you look nice as well," she blushed, noticing that the color of his tie, which stood out against black dress shirt, black vest, black suit jacket, (didn't this man own any color?) was a dead match to the color of her dress. She would have to ask him about that later. Now they were entering the restaurant, and receiving looks ranging from astonishment to distaste. What had the beast done to ensnare such a beauty?

Mr. Gold hadn't said a word to the hostess, who sat them at a small table for two in a softly lit corner. Ever the gentleman, Gold pulled out the chair for Belle, giving her another half-smile, and then settled into his own across from her. A waiter brought two waters and filled their wine glasses with a dark red wine, and left before any thanks could be offered.

"Why does no one ask any questions? What if I didn't want wine?" Belle inquired of Mr. Gold.

He leaned back in his chair, surveying her, not helping the small _not_ half-smile that crossed his lips, "Would you like something different? And if you would prefer something other than pasta primavera speak now so I can let the kitchen know," his smile turned into the usual as he spoke.

Belle sighed, "You pre-planned the entire evening, didn't you?" She couldn't help but smile. This was the man whom the town feared, who had gone out of his way to set up every detail from drinks to desserts on his dinner arrangement with her. But the more she became aware of the situation and the surroundings; she began to wonder if it was more than just an arrangement, but not quite so much a date. "I'm sure your choice of entrée will be excellent,"

* * *

><p>They slowly meandered through the town square park, past the duck pond, past the fountain, under the rising moon and the setting sun which painted marvelous colors across the sky, "Pity the coastline faces east," Mr. Gold said looking up at the pink clouds, his expression unreadable, "It would have been nice to see the sunset."<p>

"What's so grand about a sunset?" Belle questioned, "It may be beautiful yes but it's the end. A reminder of all the things that went unfinished, and all the moments that ended. At the end of a day you only have memories and regret. But a sunrise? A sunrise is a new beginning, a new day to make more memories and to avoid the regret. A fresh start," As she spoke she day dreamed, fiddling with the clasp on her small black purse. Mr. Gold had stuffed his free hand in the pocket of his jacket so keep from grabbing at hers. The other was (here's a thought he never thought he'd have) blessedly occupied by his cane.

"Is that what we need?" he asked roughly, "A fresh start?" She thought he was referring to her outburst, but in reality he was talking about so much more.

"Our…" she trailed off, uncertain of how to word it, "confrontation," it would have to do, "was regrettable, yes. But I wouldn't say I wish it had never happened. That past is what influences us how to act around each other. It's what gives us the type of relationship we have," He had stopped walking sometime back. She turned around to face him, seeing once again brokenness and despair, but something different this time. This time there was a spark of hope, and a hint of joy.

"We have a…" he stuttered over the words in shock, "a relationship?" he swallowed.

"Oh! Not like that, silly," she flushed, going back to his side and looping her right arm around his left, but then pulled away, realizing what that might be implying, regardless of what she had said. Actions speak louder than words, after all. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was giving that impression," Belle frowned.

There she went, apologizing to him again, "Don't be sorry," he told her, "I'm much more at fault than you are." And there flashed the half-smile.

"I think you're lonely," For the second time that night he stopped at her words, and for the billionth time in the last two weeks he wondered just how much she knew, "I think any man would be." He put all of his being into keeping himself standing in that spot, five feet away from her. He couldn't run over to her and take her face in his hands, kissing away every bad memory, every mistake, every moment spent apart. He couldn't beg her to come home with him, to spend every moment together from now on, both waking and sleeping. No, he had to do this slowly, and with much bravery. Not only for propriety's sake, but he decided he wanted her to remember what he did, how he treated her, before she made any decisions about loving him again. But how in the hell was he supposed to go about doing that?

"You know," he decided to say it jokingly, just to measure her reaction, "it might not be so bad."

He had caught up to her place on the path, "What would?"

"A relationship with me." Now it was her turn to stop walking, and he did as well after a few more steps.

"What _kind_ of relationship? Because even hating someone is a relationship," She knew what kind he was trying to get at, but wasn't aware that he was joking. She didn't consider such matters a joke. She was approaching the age of thirty, and a romantic relationship was very much an option for her, even desirable, but with Mr. Gold?

"Oh I don't know," he had a response picked out, but was it too harsh? Would it only push her away? Or would it make it clear that this conversation was a joke? "The kind of relationship women always dream about. I'm imposing, I'm rich, and," he pursed his lips, working up the nerve to say it, "I may be a tad bit rusty, but nothing a little use won't fix," He braced himself for a slap, a shout, her to just up and leave, but none of that happened.

Belle's eyes widened at what he was implying, almost proposing, could happen. And then she realized his intentions.

"That one was a quip," he whispered solemnly, "Not serious,"

She laughed her relief, "Of course." But now the thought was in her head, and it wasn't unpleasant. While they had conversed the sky had gotten dark and stars twinkled overhead, above wisps of cloud lit up by the moon. It was unseasonably warm for a night in March, but Belle still felt chills. "It's getting late," she whispered, "I have work in the morning. I should head home." She wrapped her arms around herself and walked past him to head home.

"Wait." He caught her shoulder as she went by, stopping her, their bodies making a T-shape, "Let me walk you," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

She smiled, "That would be nice, thank you," but shook his hand off, "But I need time alone to think." And she hurried away into the night, leaving him with brokenness on his face, and only brokenness.


	3. Chapter 3

Belle was adjusting well to life on her own, much better than people thought she would. She would twice a week go out to the grocery store, have breakfast with Emma and Mary Margaret on Sunday mornings, and was working most mornings and some evenings out in the stables. All of it was fairly uneventful. She had only briefly mentioned her dinner with Mr. Gold to Ruby and even then it was more than week afterwards. She hadn't told anyone about their walk in the park, though she replayed it in her mind often.

She had hoped to finally catch him at Granny's on the first Sunday in April, two and a half weeks since she had left him that night in the park. She had gotten the nerve to call once, but was answered by a recording. She couldn't bring herself to go to see him at his shop. He didn't show up at Granny's that Sunday, and she started to get nervous.

"He is still alive, right Emma?" Belle asked her as they sat by the pond Monday afternoon and threw stale bread to some baby ducks. Henry had his nose stuck in his oversized book. He kept telling Belle that she couldn't see it until he figured out who she was. Emma filled her in on the rest of his superstition. Belle couldn't deny that it was a fine tale; one she sort of hoped was true.

"Yeah I ran into him this morning. He asked about you. Again."

"I don't get it," Belle crossed her arms and huffed, "You keep telling me he asks but why won't he come and talk to me?"

"Why don't you go talk to him?" Emma pointed out.

"I've figured it out!" Henry shouted, "It was so obvious the whole time. You really are Belle!"

"Kid, not now, she's trying to figure out what he means to her and vice versa, not who she was in some fairy tale." Emma waved him quiet, but he didn't listen.

"This will help. This will make everything make sense!" He scooted over on the bench, and patted the space next to him, "Come look." Belle almost leapt into the seat, she was so excited to finally see the book. Henry whipped through page after page pausing only briefly to read a title or check a page number. Finally he stopped, at Beauty and the Beast.

"When I heard your name was Belle I immediately thought this might be your story, but people's names aren't usually the same, so why would yours be? I started looking at all sorts of other possibilities, trying to find who was trapped or imprisoned and stacking them up against you. But you and Mr. Gold love each other so that makes you the beauty and him the beast!"

"Woah, slow down kid. Nobody loves anybody yet." Emma eyed him.

"She's right," Belle said softly, trying to settle Henry down. He was getting very worked up and excited about this, "Mr. Gold and I had dinner together, that doesn't mean we're in love."

"You had dinner with Gold?" Emma gaped at her.

Belle cringed, "Oh yeah, guess I forgot to mention that," she shrugged, "It was almost a month ago, and it was just a business arrangement, nothing more." She was trying to convince herself of this more than Emma.

"Belle, Mr. Gold is Rumplestiltskin," Henry whispered, "Rumplestiltskin is the beast and you fell in love with him after he took you away to his castle as part of a deal." Henry was almost pleading with her at this point, as if he was begging her to believe him.

She didn't. "Henry, if that was true, don't you think I would remember some part of it? Don't you think I would love him, just a little bit?"

"This world is different. Feelings get mixed up sometimes. You have to love him." He really was pleading with her now.

"Why? Why is it so important that I love him?" Belle asked this and realized it was what she wanted, or maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

"Because, the more happy endings that happen, the sooner we can break the curse. And besides, you said so yourself: 'you need to be with the person you love'."

Belle softly laughed, "That does sound like something I would say, but I don't remember saying it. And even if I think it's true, I don't think Mr. Gold would approve of me calling him the beast that took me captive. He would think I really was crazy."

"Ugh," Henry threw his head back against the bench, "None of its crazy, it's all true!"

"So all of these baby ducks," Emma asked throwing bread out on the pond to some of the yellow fuzzballs, "Are the brothers and sisters of the ugly duckling?" Henry just nodded furiously.

Belle laughed, "You two have fun. I'm going to go get some groceries."

* * *

><p>It wasn't that she was awful at her job, quite the opposite really. Many of the horses had taken a liking to her and the staff enjoyed her company. She did her tasks quickly and efficiently and enjoyed every minute of it. She was happy to go to work because it was doing something she loved. So when the accident happened, everyone knew it was just that: an accident. She had done nothing wrong, and the horse had not meant to do it, he was just so riled up and energetic and Belle was unfortunately caught in the middle of it.<p>

It had happened on a Wednesday. Wednesdays seemed to be her lucky day. She had not cried a single tear, did not complain one word, not even when they very roughly loaded her into the back of an ambulance. And now here she was, back in her own bed, alone, on Easter Sunday. With three broken ribs, a crushed spirit, and horrible bruising. It hurt to sit up, it hurt to stand, it hurt to walk. So she lay in bed. All the time. Plenty of people had come to visit her. Granny stopped in all the time with food, usually a dessert rather than a healthy meal, and Emma checked in when she could. Mary Margaret often came by after school to help Belle out with anything she needed. He hadn't come. He probably didn't even know. Unless he had asked about her, like he so often did.

Truth is he didn't know. He had stopped asking about her, preparing himself for the Sunday he came to collect a payment. She hadn't seen him for almost a month but he had seen her. He wasn't stalking. No, that would be, frowned upon. It was just that Storybrooke was not a large town, and he had many errands to run that put him in many different places. And often a meeting was planned at a time when she would walk past on her way to work, or Mary Margaret's, or running errands of her own. She never saw him though, he made sure of that. Not until he figured out how to make her remember.

But it had been a month, and they could no longer avoid each other. He avoided the Eastertime celebrations, and decided to be nice enough to let her enjoy the morning with friends and family. Well, her good for nothing father at least. He decided to wait out the afternoon in his shop, wondering if she would come and see him. He was not aware that she had spent all day alone and in bed, unable to move. When the clock's hands approached reading four in the afternoon, he picked up his phone and dialed Sheriff Swan.

"Yes Sheriff Swan how are you today?" he asked as she answered. He didn't wait for a response, "I was wondering if you had the number to a client of mine. Miss Isabelle French."

"Yeah I have her number, and it's about time you manned up and gave her a call. I never thought you to be the type to leave a girl hanging after date number one," Emma smiled as she called him out on his mistake.

"Yes, well, it wasn't a date and if I recall correctly _she_ left _me_. But I'll wager you didn't hear about that part."

"No I didn't hear that and why wouldn't I have?"

"Can I have that number Sheriff?"

"Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses." She gave him the number and he dialed it with shaky fingers.

Across the room Belle's phone buzzed from atop the dresser. No one had called her, no one ever called her, so when the contents of her person were returned to her after the hospital visit Emma had placed them all on the dresser. Now someone was calling her, and Belle couldn't reach the phone. She fisted her hands and clenched her jaw, pushing herself up, but the pain caused her eyes to snap shut and stars to appear. It's said a horse's kick can feel like being hit by a car going twenty miles an hour. Belle had been kicked with all of that force in a place every person used most, the abdomen.

Mr. Gold didn't leave a message, hanging up the phone. Unless she recognized the number she had no way of knowing it was him calling. Perhaps she was still busy with prior engagements, he reasoned. He would go see her in the evening.

So when eight o'clock rolled around and he found himself hesitating knocking on her apartment door, he should have been prepared. It was most likely just the storm that had cropped up, dumping tremendous amounts of rain and repeated battery of thunder and lightning, that had him on edge. He knocked softly at first, then waited, and knocked a little louder. Still no answer. Now he was worried. Something could be wrong, or maybe… maybe she remembered, and truly wanted nothing to do with him.

"You can't hide from me forever," He called out above the rain, bracing himself against the door. He pulled away then slammed into it with all his force, breaking it away from the door frame. Belle was startled out of a deep sleep by a crash, making her jump and causing pain to shoot from every pinpoint in the shape of a horseshoe. She groaned and hissed as she settled back down, throat too dry to call out to see who was there. She heard the door being placed back into a closed position and a footstep, followed by a soft thump. She should have known. She immediately relaxed, knowing he wasn't there to rob her or hurt her. Anyone else may have expected that sort of behavior from him, but she didn't. Not towards her anyways.

"I'm in here," she called out hoarsely, clearing her throat.

"In bed so soon?" He answered. She could hear his cane hit the wood floor as he approached, "Whatever the reas-" he stopped as he saw her laying in the bed, pain etched into her face as she tried to pull herself to sit, "Oh gods," he whispered, "what happened?" he was immediately at her bedside, holding her hand in both of his, "What happened?" he asked even quieter than before. Screw propriety, screw the way to do things right, screw not scaring her off. This was his Belle and she was broken. She needed him and finally, he was there, when he should have been the moment she was put in this miserable state.

She had not cried a single tear since leaving the asylum, not even when she was scared and confused about what this man meant to her, not even when the mayor had cut her down and made her feel worthless, not even when the white hot pain coursed through her body. But now, when the object of most of her frustrations, the man she could not get out of her head, was kneeling beside her, desperate to make the pain go away and all the care in the world laced in his words, she couldn't hold back. "A horse," she choked out, "He didn't know… it was an accident…" the tears slowly leaked out one by one and then the dam broke and they became a waterfall.

She did not feel the pain when he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his chest, just as he did not feel the pain in his leg while his cane lay on the floor in the doorway, forgotten. They only felt the warmth and comfort of each other, beauty and the beast, as he held her like he should have done so long ago, whispering comforting words into her soft hair, and she cried into his jacket, letting herself open up to him like she should have done so long ago. It didn't matter that his long ago was thirty years and her long ago was thirty days. Nothing mattered to either one but the other in that moment. In that moment he made a vow to fix things, to never hurt her or let anything hurt her ever again. She vowed to accept whatever emotions he sent her way, and only reciprocate with a love she didn't quite understand.

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><p><strong>I know, there's probably errors with reality and how things really work but hey, I'm not perfect and I don't know everything. I realized I never ever included the Gold vs Regina scene but I don't think I will. This story isn't about them. The reviews are great and really kept me motivated to finish this up. And I think it is. I can't really think of a way to continue it other than drabble. Thanks a ton for reading!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, congrats. I've been convinced to continue this. Partly because of the awesome reviews and partly due to my inability to write anything else at the moment. But I warned you: It's going to be drabbly, and I don't have much of a plot, but I do have a rough sketch of some sort of story line. Anyway, Here goes:**

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><p>They both slept deeply but fitfully. He was propped uncomfortably against the head board and she was curled awkwardly in his arms and against his chest. He dreamt of a hopeful future, and a tragic past. Not uncommon for him, especially after an encounter with Belle. She had the strange dreams again, the ones she started having after Henry finally showed her his book.<p>

Nothing was ever seen in its entirety, only bits and pieces that she mostly forgot by mid-morning, so she was never able to piece together anything, make any connections, form any timeline. They were dreams, she had reminded herself one particularly frustrating morning, they didn't have timelines and they weren't supposed to make sense. And tonight they were back, with all sorts of fragments, muffled voices, cloudy faces and emotions. If anything was ever vivid about these dreams it was the emotions.

"_Why do you spin so much?" Her voice was always clear, as if she had actually spoken the words at some time or another. Now she only registered she was high above the ground, watching a golden man spin straw into gold._

"_It helps me forget."_

"_Forget what?" And just like that she was falling from that great height, and he caught her. They made eye contact and she knew she had seen that face somewhere recent… somewhere real…_

"_I don't want you anymore, dearie." The same golden man stood with his back to her, then she was standing in front of him, "My power means more to me than you."_

_Now she was all flustered and kneeling on the ground as he sat at the other end of a table, staring at her. "It's chipped," she held up a small teacup, a chunk missing from the lip, "You can hardly see it."_

"_It's just a cup."_

_She followed him now as he very nearly backed away from her, finally setting herself on the table, smiling at him. He had the chipped cup in his hands._

_Now she was running away from him, tears in her eyes, briefly pausing to stare at the wreckage of the tea set, and then an image of a silver tray she had just seen on the floor beside her in a dungeon, the teapot and chipped cup unharmed._

_And her vision went blurry, whispers of a chipped teacup floating in the corners, but the golden man scowling in the center of the image, "All you'll have," she choked out, "Is an empty heart. And a chipped cup."_

_And then the pain would start. The muffled chanting and her own protests against the lies, her own struggles against the flaying._

She twitched in her sleep, instinctively curling more inward, the real pain entwining itself with the dream pain. Mr. Gold roused from his own dream and sleepily pulled her closer, adjusting the position of his neck so it was less kinked, but still kinked. He would pay for this night later, but it was worth it. He put an arm around her shoulders and noticed Belle was shaking, though she was not cold. He realized she must be dreaming, but not about something pleasant.

"_If only he had come," She registered someone saying between the cracks of the whip. Then a woman in black was in front of her, helping her up._

"_I'm going to take you somewhere nicer than this, don't you worry one bit."_

"_If only he had come," the voice echoed as she found herself in yet another dungeon._

"_Well he didn't, did he?"_

_And usually at this point she would be haunted by images and whispers of a 'chipped cup' and how he didn't come, and an evil woman in black cackling at Belle's misfortune. This time was different._

_This time she was being called to. "Belle, Belle it's okay. I'm here," she smiled as she recognized the voice of the golden man, and relaxed as warmth surrounded her. "I'm here now, you're okay. Belle can you hear me? It's going to be alright."_

"It's all going to be okay, you're going to be fine," he whispered to her in the dead of night, one arm wrapped around her shoulders and the other wrapped in her hair, "Belle, you're going to be alright."

She slowly opened her eyes, the large red numbers on the bedside clock coming into focus. 2:26. She lifted a hand to rub her eyes but stopped as she registered she wasn't alone. A gentle yet strong hand turned her chin to face him, "Are you alright?" he asked, eyes scanning her silhouette, searching for a face in the darkness.

"Why are you here?" she whispered, wondering if it was just another dream. The transition had been much too graceful for this to be the conscious world.

"You had a death grip on my jacket," he exaggerated, chickening out of telling her his real reason for staying, "and I didn't want to move you and have you wake up." The last part was the honest truth.

Belle was silent for a long while as she recalled the previous night. Her stomach sank as she realized how pathetic she must have seemed, pouring everything out to this man she hardly knew. But then, he had come running to her side, looking desperate and distressed. Why did he care what happened to her? Why did he care how much pain she had been in? And why had he comforted her during her nightmare? "You do know the door was unlocked," she joked.

One side of his mouth turned up in a smile, "I suppose I do enjoy a dramatic entrance," Belle laughed and shoved at him, then sighed.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, the concern back in his voice.

"Why is this so easy? So comfortable? I don't even know you."

His face fell, "I can go, if you would like." He was begging the gods she wouldn't say yes.

"I don't want you to," Her words made his heart soar, "but I think you should." And then it plummeted again, in a matter of seconds.

"As you wish," He stiffly made his way off the bed and to the door way. An oven light in the kitchen illuminated the way out as well as glinted off the handle of his cane, forgotten hours ago on the floor. He leaned down on one knee to get it, his aching joints, and his aching heart, begging him to go lay down beside her. After standing back up he paused and turned over his shoulder, "You have a good night Miss French. I'll be back to collect your payment sometime later."

Her body was screaming as she heard him remove and then replace the broken door, his footsteps and cane deafening in the quite of the night against wet sidewalks. It wasn't protesting at the act of lying back down, although it was protesting. The worst part was her heart, telling her she was an idiot for sending him away, and idiot for listening to logic and reason. She had broken the vows she made to herself, and she justified it by saying she was delirious when making them in the first place.

And as he begrudgingly made his way towards his own home, the cramp in his neck and the knot in his leg omens of painful reminders to come, he damned himself for making that vow. If fixing things meant building a relationship the proper way and protecting her meant doing what she wished, he should have broken it right then and there, convincing her that if he stayed, in the end it would be a good thing. If he took her away, in the end it would be a fantastic thing. If she gave him a second chance at love, in the end it would be perfect.

Belle let herself cry for the second time that night, this time at her own stupidity. She should have let him stay, should have seen what would happen, and then made her decision in the morning when she was awake and aware. Not at two thirty in the morning when she was upset by her dream and confused by his actions and baffled by her reactions. What she did wasn't fair to either of them. If only there was a way to redo things. If only there was an easy way to fall in love. If only everything was a fairytale…

_She was in a new dream this time, walking down a muddy road. She heard horses and stepped to the side watching them pass. They slowed to a stop and a carriage door flew open, a woman dressed in black hanging out of it, "Did my carriage splash you?"_

_Despite Belle's best attempt the woman was determined to have a conversation with her, tricking her into admitting that she was falling in love with the man who held her captive. The richly dressed woman wove a fine tale about curses and true loves kiss, and how he would be 'an ordinary man'._

_Belle quickly finished the task she had been sent for and hurried back to a looming castle, practically running inside to the dining room. She opened the door to find the golden man sitting at a spinning wheel._

"_Oh you're back already? Good. Good thing. I'm uh, I'm nearly out of straw," As he spoke she set down a basketful of the very item he spoke of._

"_Hmph, come on. You're happy that I'm back," She teased him._

"_I'm not unhappy," he smirked at her._

"_And uh," she circled around behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders, "you promised me a story."_

_He was silent for a moment, avoiding looking at her, "Did I?"_

"_Uh-huh," she chirped, taking the thread from his hands and sitting down beside him on the wheel, "Tell me about your son." She leaned in close to him._

_He sighed, "I lost him. There's nothing more to tell really." He seemed flustered and confused._

"_And since then," Belle looked deeply into his golden eyes, "You've loved no one, and no one has loved you?"_

_He leaned closer to her, "Why did you come back?" he whispered, searching her bright blue eyes for answers._

"_I wasn't going to," she stumbled, "But then, something changed my mind," She slowly leaned even closer towards him, closing her eyes, and was amazed when she felt his lips atop her own. The butterflies in her stomach went crazy and she deepened the kiss, loving the soft warmth and gentle touch shared between them. They pulled apart and she looked into the eyes and face of Mr. Gold._

Belle shot up in bed, crying out in pain and falling back down into the mess of pillows and blankets. She was breathing heavily and there was sweat on her brow, as well as sunlight peeking through the cracks in the blinds and birds chirping in the bush outside her window. The space next to her felt empty...

It was just a dream, she told herself, dreams aren't supposed to mean anything, aren't supposed to make sense. But why did this one linger? Why was this one so much clearer? This one was more like a fond memory than a figment of her imagination.

She glanced over at the clock. It read almost nine, which meant Emma might check in soon. And Belle would have to explain why the door was busted open… and why the space next to her smelled so damn good… Where had that come from? Belle tried to convince herself that it was just expensive cologne, any woman would be captivated by that scent. But her heart knew otherwise, her heart knew it smelled of fresh air and peppermints, with hints of aged pine and ink. No man made fragrance would make her swoon like that, make her feel so comfortable.

"Belle?" she heard Emma call out cautiously, "Belle, you okay?" She shook herself out of her trance. She had to come up with a reason why Mr. Gold had busted down her door and quick, too.

"Yes, I'm fine." She answered, mind whirling. The only logical solution she could come up with was the truth. Lying never got anybody anywhere. But leaving out memorable details wasn't lying…

"Why is your door busted off its hinges?" Emma stepped into her bedroom doorway, pointing in the general direction of the door to the apartment.

"Mr. Gold stopped by last night. He came to collect rent."

Emma looked at her skeptically, having filled in the gaps about how Belle felt towards the man. "Uh-huh… and charging through your door was entirely necessary, as opposed to waiting until morning. I see." She winked at Belle.

"You see what?" Belle huffed, "There's nothing to see. That's what happened."

"All that happened?" Emma gave her a knowing look.

"Don't be disgusting," Belle snapped.

"If you say nothing happened, I believe you. Nothing happened. But your door is broken and it does need to be fixed. I'll charge him with breaking and entering and he'll have to pay for it."

"Wouldn't it be faster if we just asked him to pay? And if he doesn't then I can take care of it."

"Okay we'll do things your way," Emma shrugged, "And if he says no, there are plenty of people willing to split the cost and help you out." She came over and helped Belle sit up against the headboard. "And I'll probably still press charges. Anyway, how are you feeling today?"

Belle rolled her eyes at Emma's topic change before Belle had the opportunity to protest about the pressing of charges, "I'm fine, thank you." Her gaze crept over to the window where the sun was streaming in, "I'd like to go outside today, if that's at all possible."

Emma paused, looking her over. "Today is what? Monday? It's been five days since your accident? The doc said you needed a week of bed rest. Going outside today is not an option, sorry."

"Well me staying in bed all day again is not an option," Belle protested, "I'm restless and I feel lazy, but honestly, I'm fine. It just hurts. I can get past that and go on with life," she briefly wondered if she was talking about her bruise or her silly affection.

"It's not about the pain. It's about the broken ribs. The week of bed rest is to ensure they start to set and won't puncture your lung. And even after the week you still won't be allowed to do much." Emma informed her. "And if I hear that you've been trying to get up and about," she leaned in to finish her threat, "I _will_ handcuff you to the bed."

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><p><strong>I did something I said I wouldn't do: I used a scene from Skin Deep... I wasn't going to but then something changed my mind... I guess it was the necessity of needing Belle to dream that and the inadequacy of just saying "she dreamed about kissing the golden man who had the face of Mr. Gold."<strong>

**And I want to add that Mr. Gold's smell had all the women in my household in a full fledged debate. Damn my need for descriptions...**


	5. Chapter 5

He finally made good on his promise to return. It may have been two weeks later but he returned. Emma had confronted him the day after, asking about payment for the door and his real reason for being there. He wrote out a check without pause but denied complying with Emma's interrogations.

"You had better figure out what's going through her head, and you had better help her make a decision," Emma had warned him.

"Or what?" He sneered back at her.

"If all you do is lead her on and then hurt her," Emma whispered, glaring at him, "You'll have me to deal with."

He would never do anything that could hurt her, not intentionally, but he couldn't let Emma know that, so he had played along, "Why so protective? You've only known her for two months."

"She's a friend, and a good one. I don't want to see her get hurt and from what I've seen, that's something you're good at. Hurting people."

He had used to enjoy a playful bantering with the sheriff, but at that point she was only getting on his nerves, "The only thing that's ever gonna hurt her," he very nearly growled, "are those damn horses she's so fond of." He ripped out the check and handed it to her, thankful she didn't say anything else as she took it and left.

So now here he was, making good on his promise to check up on her. Two weeks later.

It was a beautiful sunny day, very nearly seventy degrees. The sky was bright and the birds were chirping. He knew she was home, he'd inquired about it to Miss Blanchard the day before, and with the knowledge that today Belle had the afternoon and evening off work and enjoyed spending time off around her apartment, catching up on house work and laundry, he decided today would be a good afternoon to check in on her.

He knocked on the door, hand shaking in anticipation of seeing her again, hopefully up and around and not bed ridden. He didn't receive and answer. Deciding to twist the handle, instead of breaking the brand new door, he found it unlocked, and stepped inside. The girl really was too trusting for her own good. Evil had been banished to this world as well as good, though she had no idea of the difference. He expected to find her sitting on a couch, nose stuck in a book, unaware of her surroundings until he made a sound.

Instead he found the apartment empty. Dripping dishes were drying on a rack by the sink, and a book lay face down and open on a glass coffee table beside a bowl of caramel and chocolate graham crackers. The windows were open and a warm breeze toyed with the ends of yellow curtains, flowing nicely with the maple wood floors and blue rugs. He heard a soft cooing outside the window at the end of the hallway, and went to investigate.

"What are you doing up there?" He asked, looking at her high up in a tree outside, hand outstretched towards a messy looking nest.

She jumped at his voice, looking around and then realizing he was inside, "What are you doing in there?" she laughed. He didn't answer, and she wondered if she had imagined his company. She returned to her task of making sure the small chick was back in the nest, hoping the mother would return. If it didn't, she would hand rear the small bird until it was able to fly.

In the two weeks between seeing him she had ample time to cool off and realize maybe just a friendly relationship wouldn't be so bad. But the more time she cooled off the more she thought about him, and the more she realized she might want more than just friendship. She didn't often remember her dreams but the one she did remember… Well it had certainly made her think. And she had acted on her thoughts by placing something in addition to the money in the envelope for when he came to collect.

"I asked first," he was standing below her now, free hand shielding his eyes from the sun so he could see her better.

"The poor dear fell, and he's a long way from being able to fly. I'm giving him a second chance." She smiled down at Mr. Gold and began her descent towards the ground, nerves making her legs shaky.

"I was simply coming to collect an overdue payment," he answered her question.

"You're a little late," she bit her tongue as she struggled to find decent footing.

"Just by two weeks. And you were unfit to work, it was only proper that I delay collection so long as you had no income."

She stopped and looked at him, "Something tells me that I'm the only one you make that allowance for."

They locked eyes for a moment. One moment to long. The branch Belle had been holding onto for support snapped and she lost her balance, plummeting to the ground. Mr. Gold let go of his cane and it fell forgotten in the grass. Ignoring the pain of putting weight on his right leg he took two steps forward and had just enough time to balance himself entirely on his good leg before Belle landed perfectly safe in his arms. She looked up into his face. "Thank you," she whispered. She slid semi-gracefully out of his hold and onto her own two feet. "Thank you," She said again, a little louder this time.

He took a step back, "No matter," his voice shook, not with astonishment this time, but with hope that something would trigger that this, this moment, had happened before. She bent down, picking up his cane and handing it to him, and that brought him back to the reality that this life was not that life, and she may never remember what they had, and what he'd ruined, "I'm only giving you a second chance." She smiled at his reference to her comment from before, and he returned it. A full smile this time, not half. It was small, but it was full, and she noticed.

"I have the money," she ended the silence and walked around the corner of the building and towards her door. He stayed there, lost in the memory. She peeked back around the corner, "You do still want it, right?"

"If you insist," he complied.

"Well don't just stand there, come inside," she invited him, "you've certainly had no trouble doing that in the past." She disappeared again and he followed, catching the door as she held it open for him with her foot, rummaging through a drawer on a stand beside the door. She procured a business envelope. "Here it is," she handed it to him and he took it, "Every penny,"

He flipped open the envelope and rifled quickly through the bills, pretending to hastily count them, but really his mind was occupied. What would he do to ruin their meeting this time? "Indeed," he half-smiled, "I'll be on my way then," He decided to end the exchange now while it was somewhat amicable.

"Will I see you a month from today then? Or a month from the original payment date?" she asked as he was exiting the door.

He turned and looked at her questioningly. She was biting her lip again. "Well," he swallowed, "I should hope we meet again before either of those dates. Don't you?" He didn't hang around for an answer; only shut the door quietly behind him.

Belle started to beam as his words sank in, and sank down onto the plushy black couch, picking up her book and popping a caramel smothered cracker in her mouth, not focusing a single bit on the words she was reading.

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><p>The proud and mighty Rumplestiltskin made his way back to his shop for the evening, a bounce in his step, his head held high for the first time in ages. Of course that evil witch would choose today, this time, this spot, to pick on him. But he was going to do a damn good job of picking right back.<p>

"Mr. Gold, you're looking particularly joyous this afternoon," she sneered a greeting, walking beside him on the sidewalk, "I wonder what about."

He stopped walking, turning to face her, "The very thing I've been meaning to discuss with you for about a month or two now, dear Regina."

"Well you know where to find me, what kept you?" She grinned a fake grin.

"Just struggling to find the right… words." He resumed walking.

"Well if you've finally chosen them I'm here and listening," she followed.

"Oh no, I've decided to avoid words. Actions do speak louder, after all."

"Mr. Gold you should be careful what actions you decide to talk. We are in public, after all."

"Indeed we are," he stopped in front of the door to his shop. "For now. Be careful where you find yourself later, Regina. Wouldn't want a horrible… ah… accident to happen. Especially in your own home," his face was cold and unreadable as he lifted up his cane and examined the handle.

"Is that a threat?" she glared at him.

"Let's call it a premonition. Have a nice night," he turned and opened the door, stepping into his shop, "Your majesty." He walked to his back room, head still held high and demeanor bursting with victory. He knew she would never follow him into his own domain, not after that conversation. Oh but if she did. All sorts of top heavy piles just waiting to fall over, and dangerous artifacts that he had no idea that's what they did. He settled into a chair and imagined more ways to end Regina's life, as he went through mail he picked up earlier in the day, setting Belle's envelope at the bottom. He tore through bills, bank statement, advertisements, card offers, none of it important until he finally reached the unlabeled one given to him only an hour ago.

He still did not count the money, only tossed the envelope in the safe, trying to create some way to return the funds to her. Perhaps he could pull some strings at the bank and have the money transferred to her anonymously. No, she was too clever to not suspect him. Maybe he could periodically leave the money in places only she would stumble across. No, she would blame him for that, too.

He took the junk mail and bank statements and shredded them, turning to his current project of restoring the genie lamp to its former glory. He didn't look in the envelope, and didn't take the money out, so he didn't see the note tucked between the bills. He didn't read the invitation to meet Belle at the docks on Thursday morning to see a sunrise.

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><p>Belle had gone back to work the week before and worked as if she hadn't had two weeks off. She was still just as good at her tasks, pausing every now and again to clutch her side, and she was still just as fond of the horse. This cold and damp Wednesday evening was not much different than the others. Yet.<p>

Her mind was preoccupied with the next morning's rendezvous with Mr. Gold, so when the water spout stopped working and the water trough wasn't filling, Belle didn't pay much attention as she turned the water off and kneeled down to inspect the pipe. Belle didn't notice the footsteps in the gravel and she didn't sense the presence behind her.

Gloved hands grabbed her, one under her shoulder and another in her hair, lifting her up and pushing her head under water in the trough. Wednesdays had a tendency to be rough days. Belle struggled and kicked, throwing out her elbows and finally making a connection. Her head was pulled above the water, but just barely, loose strands of hair dipping beneath the surface. She gasped for breathe, a task made extremely difficult due to the hand pressing into her mending ribs.

"I'm only going to say this once," a woman's voice she didn't recognize hissed in her ear, "And it's for your own good. Stay away from Mr. Gold. You will only get hurt. He doesn't care for you. He doesn't care for anyone but himself," as a not so gentle reminder, one hand squeezed tighter on her ribs and the other dunked her head back underwater for just a second before Belle was pushed down into the mud.

As Belle clutched at her side, struggling to breathe, she tried to get a good image of her perpetrator despite her waterlogged and blurry eyes. She only caught a glimpse of a woman wearing a gray skirt and matching jacket, with short black hair. Regardless of the little she saw, Belle knew exactly who it was. She would recognize the mayor anywhere. "We'll see just how much he cares," Belle whispered to herself, struggling to her feet and wiping hair out of her face. "We'll see."

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><p>She slept fitfully that night, plagued by the usual dreams, and forgetting the bulk of them soon after she woke up. Her alarm went off at six in the morning and at first in her delirium she was wondering how it had been set wrong. Then she jumped out of bed as she remembered she was going to meet Mr. Gold this morning. Sunrise was a little after 6:30 but she wanted to be there to see the colors beforehand. She swallowed down some almost burnt toast with globs of peanut butter as she changed her outfit multiple times, finally settling on her favorite pair of denim jeans and a blue and white sweater. She brushed her teeth, making sure she didn't have peanut butter stuck anywhere, and messily tied her hair back. She gave herself a second and third once over in the mirror before leaving her apartment.<p>

She moseyed past the closed up shops, gazing up at the brightest of stars and the lightening sky. She took a path that led her past Mr. Gold's shop, noticing that there was a light on inside. She wondered if she should knock and stop in, or just head down to the waterside. Perhaps he was already there waiting for her and had left the light on, knowing he would be back soon. She opted to head straight to the docks.

She should have knocked. It would have woken him up. He'd spent the night in the shop, having fallen asleep in his chair at the desk in the back, hard at work and deep in thought. He hadn't gotten much sleep since the nights after seeing Belle on Sunday, which was typical after seeing her. So when sleep finally overtook him, he didn't fight it. He knew he had nowhere to be early on Thursday morning, he would be able to head home and freshen up when he awoke, and still be back to open up at a reasonable hour. Not that he would have many visitors.

Belle walked to the edge of the wooded walkway sticking out into the water. The one she had chosen had no boats tethered to it, allowing her a clear view of the glassy surface around her. She shivered as she stood at the edge of the dock and the ocean breeze toyed with her hair. The harbor was mostly protected by wave breakers and rock walls. She was glad she had chosen this location instead of the rock beach where wind and crashing waves would make conversation near impossible. Perhaps another day. She looked behind her, searching for another being besides herself. Why wasn't he here yet? He didn't strike her as the type to arrive late for anything.

He blinked as he started to wake up, looking out at the pink and blue sky. His conversation with Belle about sunsets and sunrises brought a smile to his face. He lifted his head off the desk and stretched, grabbing his cane and flipping off the light.

Belle had kicked off her socks and shoes and rolled up her pant legs, sitting on some steps from the dock to the water and dipping her feet in. She didn't even watch the sunrise, her heart sinking as the sun rose. She just kept looking behind her, waiting for him to show up. By now the sun had slowed its climb, and the sky was predominately blue. The words of the mayor rattled in her mind. '_He doesn't care for you. He doesn't care for anyone but himself._' Other voices joined the echoes of the mayor's. '_If only he had come.' 'Well he didn't, did he?'_ A single tear slipped out of the corner of her eye as she stared down into the water. Part of her was frustrated that she couldn't place where she had heard the other voices, but the bulk of her was torn that he hadn't come. He didn't care. She grabbed her socks and shoes and put them on wet feet, trudging back home, hands stuffed in her pockets, head drooped in disappointment.

As she walked she tried to think of reasons why he hadn't come. Maybe he was sick, or possibly injured. Maybe he had prior engagements and couldn't get ahold of her to let her know. Or maybe he didn't even get the message. No, that last one wasn't possible. He had to have at least seen it when looking in the envelope, but he most certainly would have found it when counting out the money. And there were plenty of ways to let her know he wouldn't be able to make it. A phone call, a letter, even a message through Emma. She decided he was unable to make it due to something physical.

Those deductions were quickly put to rest when she went back past his shop and peeked in the window where the light had been. It was off now, which meant either the bulb decided to burn out in the last forty-five minutes, or he had been there. She roughly swallowed, lip trembling, and headed for home. Thank goodness she had the day off because right now she needed to be alone. And once her emotions settled down and the redness left her eyes, she had someone she needed to visit.


	6. Chapter 6

Thursday afternoon was stormy and dark, rain smacking against the window pane and thunder cracking overhead. Mr. Gold was in the back of his shop, reframing a painting he had recently acquired when the bell to his shop rang furiously as the door was flung open and quickly slammed shut. He glanced up from his work, waiting momentarily for whoever it was to call out. He sifted through the list in his head at who would be angry with him, but found too many names to pinpoint just one. Perhaps it was just some poor soul flushed inside by the rain.

"Get out here and face me, you coward!" Belle shouted, dripping wet in the door way of his shop. She had come this far to find him but she was not going to seek him out. It was long past time for him to come to her and he'd better have a damn good explanation for why this morning he was in his shop and not at the docks.

Upon hearing her voice he immediately grabbed his cane and went as fast as he could to the main room, so many thoughts whirling through his mind. Why was she upset? Had someone told her something? Was it his fault? Did she… did she remember? He paused in front of the curtain, bracing himself for the storm to come, then pushed through, his heart wrenching at her facial expression. He thought she was mad at the diner? That was nothing compared to this. He froze, speechless and terrified.

"Where were you?" her jaw was clenched and her fists were shaking, the thunder rolling in the distance. Had the fire in her eyes gone unnoticed by him, seeing her standing there dripping wet in jeans and a t-shirt may have been humorous. But he did see eyes, and he was not amused. He was crushed.

It took him a moment to respond, "What?" he forced out.

"I went past this morning on my way to the docks, and I saw a light on in the shop. I kept going and waited and waited, but you never showed up." She breathed, her voice taking on a threatening tone, "When I came back by, the light was off. You were up and you had been here, but you never went there. Care to explain?" she dared him.

"I… I…" he stuttered. He was completely confused. What on earth was she talking about?

"That's what I thought," Belle whispered grimly, turning towards the door. She rested her hand on the knob, turning over her shoulder, "I didn't want to believe her, but you left me no choice. She was right. And I am a fool." She flung the door open and rushed out into the pouring rain, the door slamming shut on its own behind her, making him jump.

He paused a moment, weighing his options. His coat was in the back. Too far away. He would have to deal with getting soaked. The shop keys were in his coat. Too far away and locking up would waste time. He needed answers, and so did she. He wasn't really sure how they could help each other, but he was hell bent on finding out. He blasted out the door to his shop, not able to see anything in the rain. "Belle?" he called out. No answer, no movement. "Belle!" he was yelling now. It didn't matter. No one would be out here in this weather to see him act like this and frankly, he didn't care if there was.

As if the gods themselves had heard his call, the rain let up enough for him to see her, hunched over and sloshing down the flooded sidewalk. "Belle," he called out again, heading towards her. She was moving very slowly, and acting like she didn't hear him. It was possible, considering the rain, but it was also possible she was ignoring him, wishing he would leave her be. He got closed to her, noticed she had the hood of her coat pulled up. He put a hand on her shoulder and she spun around.

"Mr. Gold. What brings you out in such horrible weather," Regina smiled at him. Then he realized, Belle hadn't been wearing a coat. He looked around for Belle, knowing she had to be nearby. Something she had suddenly clicked, '_I didn't want to believe her… She was right'._ All common sense flew out the window.

"What the hell did you say to her?" He didn't think, he just acted, swinging out and nailing her in the jaw, hoping he seriously injured her. She put a hand to where he hit her, gaping at him.

"I told her the truth," she shoved at him, and he dropped his cane.

"Oh yeah? Just like you told me 'the truth'?" he mocked her and struck out at her face again, knowing her eye would blacken later.

"Is this about that girl I met on the road?" she fake pouted, "I thought you were better than that, Rumple. Turns out you're just as weak as the rest of those love sick fools." He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her into the decorative bushes. She grabbed at his neck and tie, pulling him down with her. They didn't speak again, just rolled in the rain and mud, each fighting for dominance, him throwing punches whenever and wherever he could and her scratching at him with sharp, blood-red (literally now) nails.

_This is it. This is for Belle, and it will be worth it,_ he thought as he pinned her beneath him and readied his fist, "I'm going to kill you," he whispered. But before he could deliver the final punch he was thrown off and pinned. Water and pain blinded him as his head cracked against cement. He was rolled onto his stomach, rushing water running into his face. His hands were pulled behind his back. Now she was going to kill him. Drown him, no less.

He was pulled back up and onto his knees by the neck of his shirt, his tie choking him. He went to catch himself as he tipped forward slightly, finding himself unable to pull his wrists apart. He swallowed as his vision cleared and head started to throb less and looked to his right, seeing the mayor in a similar position to his own, subdued by one of the mechanics from the shop across the street. "What is with you lately?" The sheriff shook her head, pulling him to his feet.

* * *

><p>He wasn't placed in a holding cell, rather, locked in one of the makeshift interrogation rooms. The sheriff didn't trust him or Regina to leave the other alone. A washcloth wrapped icepack sat unused on the table as he paced, right leg screaming. Now that his mind was clearer than before, he regretted what he did. Slightly. She deserved every pinprick of pain he had caused. He only regretted what would happen to him. The door opened and Emma stepped into the room, shutting it behind her.<p>

"So," she shrugged, "what happened?"

He didn't look at her, stopping in front of the frosted glass window and looking at the faint outline of raindrops on the outside. It was his turn to shrug, still not turning towards her.

"You're not talking either, eh?" Emma sighed. He slightly turned his head towards her, her implications catching him off guard. So the devil's whore was refusing to speak as well? Interesting… But this could be Emma's attempt at tricking him into talking. Either was it was best if he remained silent, so he looked back toward the window.

"If I don't have a story, I can't hold you for more than twenty four hours. But that also means I can only hold Regina that long. Rain washed away all the evidence and there were no eyewitnesses of the beginning so, for all anyone knows you were acting in self-defense." She paused, waiting for him to respond, "Still nothing to say?"

He shrugged again. The sheriff would be able to tell he was lying the second he told her it was all in self-defense, and even if she couldn't prove it Emma was an enemy he couldn't afford to have. As it stood the only thing she had was speculation on what happened, and considering he was fairly certain she disliked the queen more than the trickster, Emma would instinctually lean towards Regina being the initiator. Things would be tense between the mayor and the broker for some time, but then again, how was that any different than before?

If anything this show of a power struggle was beneficial to him. She knew not to take him on physically. If Emma hadn't shown up, Regina would have died. And like the sheriff said: the rain washed away the evidence. Then his mind wandered. He could have tossed her in the road. It would have been an accident. She had lost her footing on the flooded sidewalk, tripping into the road right in the path of an oncoming car which conveniently noticed nothing but a bump amidst the sheets of rain. The real culprit would just have to lay low until the swelling in the break went down and his bloodied knuckles healed over. Why did that damn sheriff have to show up?

* * *

><p>After confronting him, Belle had gone to Granny's for a hot chocolate to go. She sat for a while, sipping and watching the rain as Granny coddled her, lecturing her about catching a cold and finding an umbrella for next time. "What was so urgent that it couldn't wait until the storm passed?" Granny's hand on her arm snapped Belle out of her trance.<p>

"Oh I dunno," Belle's gaze fell to the ground, "I just… somebody led me on and I believed him… so when he stood me up… I should have expected it. I was a fool."

"Mr. Gold?" Ruby asked.

"Keep it down!" Belle snapped at her.

Ruby put a finger to her own lips and pointed to the phone in her hand. Belle's face fell at her mistake. Ruby didn't catch it, busy talking on the phone with Billy about what just happened outside the shop between Mayor Mills and Mr. Gold. But Granny noticed, grabbing Belle by the arm and pulling her into the hallway to the inn.

"What is that supposed to mean? What have you gotten yourself into?" Granny looked both shocked and worried.

Belle blushed, "I thought I was attracted to him… and that the feelings were reciprocated. But he led me on. When I asked him to meet me at the docks for a sunrise, he never showed up. Last night the mayor told me he was only concerned about himself and didn't care about me." Belle's voice died to a whisper as she held back tears, "She was right…"

"Now, now dear. The mayor will say anything to tear you down. Don't take her words to heart. Ever. As for Mr. Gold… I'm not going to tell you Madame Mayor was wrong. He's extremely selfish and won't give anyone the time of day without something in it for him." Belle's heart sunk as Granny spoke, and her gaze met the floor once again, "But around you," Belle looked at Granny skeptically, "the way he looks at you and acts around you. I don't think he led you on. I think you took away his control and he wasn't sure how to react."

As Granny finished her speech Belle was thankful the drips on her face from her soaking hair blended well with her hopeful tears. What Granny said made sense. He had always been the one to ask and act. He directed their conversations and even that night at dinner he had planned everything ahead of time. When Belle had taken action and invited him, he had lost the upper hand, lost his control. Belle smiled, "Thank you. Do you really think that?"

Granny returned the smile and nodded, leading them back into the restaurant. "You will never guess what just happened," Ruby squealed as Belle sat back down. Granny picked up glassware and continued to polish. The rain kept everyone indoors and as a result the diner was fairly dead.

"What just happened?" Belle prompted, her spirits lifting as Granny's words continued to sink in.

"Okay," Ruby leaned in, lowering her voice, all dramatics because with Ruby, nothing was really a secret, "Billy and some of the other mechanics heard fighting, so they thought it was Sean and August. See, August was flirting with Ashley the other day and Sean didn't really like that, said he was gonna teach him not to do it again. Anyway," Ruby took a deep breath, "It wasn't Sean." She stopped.

"Well, spit it out girl," Granny was listening in, "Who was it?"

"One of them was Mayor Mills and the other," Ruby stopped, trying to build the anticipation of her listeners.

"Sheriff Swan again?" Granny sniffed, "Girl should know better. She'll get herself fired acting like that,"

"Oh no, not Emma," Ruby waved Granny off. Belle's stomach tanked before Ruby said who it was, remembering the snippet she heard while Ruby was on the phone, "It was Mr. Gold."

"I think I have to go…" Belle started to get up but Ruby grabbed her shoulders from across the counter and pushed her back down.

"I didn't even tell you what happened," Ruby whined.

"If she needs to go she needs to go," Granny butted in, guessing why Belle suddenly didn't care about waiting for the rain to stop.

"I'll be quick I promise!" Ruby pleaded, Belle nodded for her to continue, "They don't know who started it but when all the boys got there, Mr. Gold was being pulled to the ground by the mayor and they kept attacking each other. They said she already had a huge red mark on her face and he had blood streaming down his. Somebody called Sheriff Swan and she broke them up otherwise they think Mr. Gold was going to kill Mayor Mills." Ruby didn't understand why as she told the story Belle's expression got more and more horrified, "Billy said the mayor looked pretty beat up, but Mr. Gold's nose was broken. They had to be driven to the station in separate cars. I know they never liked each other but I really want to know what made them attack each other like that."

"I really have to go now," Belle whispered, her eyes glassy and distant, "Thank you for sharing,"

Belle practically ran through the rain to the station, passing back by Mr. Gold's shop, passing the scene of the crime, and barely catching herself when she tripped on the sidewalk, still pretending to be a small river even though the rain had slowed down considerably. Belle was mumbling about shitty drainage and dangerous cracks as she got up, but stopped when she noticed what exactly she had tripped on. She picked up Mr. Gold's cane off the path, now elated that she had fallen, and resumed running to the police station.

Emma was at her desk, tipping back in the chair, trying to figure out what had just taken place. Somehow for some reason, Storybrooke's most iconic characters had just duked it out in the rain. Everyone knew they didn't get along. But an all-out brawl? She didn't think anyone saw that coming. Belle stumbled through the door of the station, holding Mr. Gold's cane. Emma briefly wondered if Belle had something to do with it: she was, after all, the reason Mr. Gold had bludgeoned Moe French.

Belle looked from Emma to the empty cells and back to Emma. "Is he home?" Belle was breathing heavily.

"No, he's in isolation of sorts. Did you run? Sit down, talk to me," Emma gestured to a chair in her office.

Belle shook her head, holding her free hand to her side, "Can I see him?" she panted.

Emma hesitated, "I don't know if-"

"Please," Belle interrupted, "I just want to give this back to him." She gestured with the cane.

"This isn't the first person he's assaulted. He's dangerous,"

Belle was trying very hard to ignore a whisper that tugged the back of her mind. _He's a lot less dangerous than before_. Before? Before what? "But you don't know that he wasn't just protecting himself," She argued.

Emma rolled the notion over in her mind. She had broken protocol to leave him completely alone with Regina, and he wasn't really in isolation, just isolated from Regina. "I don't see what it could hurt," Emma complied. Belle whispered a thank you as Emma got up and led the way to the door, unlocking it. Before opening it she looked at Belle, "I'm going to stand outside here so the door can be closed but unlocked. If at any point you need help, yell for me." Emma finally opened the door up and Belle took a few steps inside, wringing her hands around the cane, hearing the door click closed behind her.

* * *

><p><strong>So, what do we think so far? Keep going? Give it up? Too cheesy to be believable?<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

Belle just watched him for a moment or two. He stood against the wall, leaning the side of his head against the window, his eyes closed and his arms crossed. His suit was in almost the same condition as her own outfit. Though his clothing was a bit more mud covered and bloodied, torn in a few places as well.

Rumplestiltskin knew it was Belle before she came in the room. He could hear the women talking on the other side of the wall. He couldn't face her. He knew that somehow he had messed up, again, and his cowardly nature was winning this particular battle. He wanted to forget, to hide, to be alone. He didn't want to listen to her rage, he didn't even want to know what he had screwed up. He just wanted her to let it go so they could forget about it.

But this would be one fight in front of many he could suspect would happen. And this fight, he worried, would be nothing compared to when she finally remembered… A hand on his arm removed him from deep in his thoughts. She didn't say anything, only held out his cane towards him.

He turned his head and looked at it, finally moving to take it from her hand. She hadn't moved her other one from his arm, and he shifted, both to relieve his left leg from some of his weight and to pull away from her. He steeled himself for a reaction. None came.

None that he could see, anyway. Inside, Belle was being crushed. He truly wanted nothing to do with her. She had taken a step of her own and had only pushed him away. Or maybe she read the situation wrong entirely and he never did want anything to do with her, only pitied the poor mental patient. _But Granny said_, she reminded herself. But what did Granny know. She had only seen them together once. _But that night alone_, she remembered. She also remembered not seeing him for two weeks after. _When he caught you_, the back of her mind prodded, _just like before. _Again with the before. Before what?

"This morning," he broke the silence, the need to know finally defeating the cowardice, "you were mad. I want to know why."

Belle was quiet for a while, slightly befuddled. He wanted to know why as in, he didn't know about her invitation? Or he wanted to know why him not being there affected her the way it did? "You didn't come," she stated simply and quietly, "I was hurt by that,"

He laughed a little. She was hurt by him not showing up somewhere? He could only imagine how hurt she would be when she remembered he had thrown her out of his life, because at that time he thought, convinced himself, that he valued his power more than her. At that time he was so cowardly, and afraid of becoming what he had been if he ever lost his power, he couldn't bear to keep her around and risk slipping up.

"This was a big mistake," she whispered and turned to leave. He had laughed at her heartbreak; she had all the answers she needed. His arm instinctually whipped out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her in front of him. Sometimes acting without thinking landed him in prison, and other times, it was exactly what he needed to do.

"You're right. It's all a mistake. Rather, a misunderstanding." He smiled, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed, completely puzzled, "I invited you to the docks to see a sunrise this morning. You never showed up. At first I thought that maybe something had happened or you were busy or some other legitimate reason. But the light in your shop gave you away. That you had been up and in there and had left in the time it took the sun to rise. And you hadn't bothered to come meet me…" She turned her head away, avoiding his searching gaze.

He put a hand under her chin, and turned her face back towards his, "Why did I not get the invitation?" the bridge of his nose ached as he thought of bashing Regina's face in again for meddling in his personal life.

"It was in the envelope with the rent money that I gave you earlier this week. I slipped a note that you would find when you counted," his hand left her chin.

"Ah, well, that explains it then," he whispered. He turned back to the window, leaning on his cane. "I never counted your money." He said matter-of-factly. Belle sighed and walked over to the table, picking up the damp cloth and icepack, and returned to his side. She pulled out a chair and tugged down on his shoulder so he would sit. "What… What are you doing?" he stuttered. He remembered sounding and feeling like this only once before. He would not let it end the same way.

She didn't say anything, only slipped his wet suit jacket off his shoulders. He helped her by shrugging it off and pulling his arms out the sleeves. She placed it neatly on the table and grabbed the washcloth. Turning back to him she placed a hand on his shoulder, his eyes becoming heavy lidded in the intimacy of the moment, which ended when she pressed the cloth against his nose. He jerked away and sucked in air, the pain banishing all pleasant thought from his mind.

"Stop it," she told him firmly. She moved her hand from his shoulder to the back of his head, as if to hold him in place, and slowly pressed the damp fabric back against the break.

"Why there?" he practically whimpered.

"You have a nasty gouge. I'm now convinced our mayor is more animal than woman." They both laughed softly, smiling at each other. She worked her way down his face, wiping at dripped blood and doing the best she could to clean open wounds. She finished with the blood under his nose and over his mouth. He had closed his eyes a while ago, opening them when she stopped.

"What's wrong?" he asked when he realized she was frowning.

"Doesn't this scare you?" Belle's eyes were wary, "Doesn't it seem… unnerving?"

"You seem to have a knack for stumping me," he half-smiled.

"Us." She whispered. It was enough for him to know what she was talking about. "I should still be mad at you, frustrated, upset, even annoyed. But nothing. I get angry and I let it out, but I can't stay angry with you. The part that scares me most is that I know nothing about you. I've only seen you a handful of times, yet I can't get you out of my head. "

He wanted to tell her it was true love. He wanted to tell her he was sorry and she was right, he regretted everything he had done and said to her that day. He wanted to tell her that they needed to be together, or he might just die. But he couldn't say any of that.

"I don't know what to say," he rose from the chair, walking back to the window. If she didn't understand her feelings towards him, she wouldn't be able to handle the way he felt about her. Not yet anyway. "I know what I want, and I suppose I need to let you determine what it is you want."

"And what," Belle cleared her throat, "What is it that you want?"

"Oh, no," he turned, smiling at her, "I wouldn't want to influence you in any particular direction."

Belle opened her mouth to speak when the door opened. Emma had been eavesdropping the entire time and assumed now was as good a time as any to break it up. She had only imagined the visual part of the happenings behind the door: Belle by one end of the table, Mr. Gold standing near the other. She was surprised, and a little spooked, at their proximity to each other. She was even more shocked to see his face cleaned up and Belle with the wash cloth in her hands. Emma was absolutely amazed at the way they had been looking at each other: practically a reincarnation of the looks David and Mary Margaret not so sneakily snuck.

"Sorry," Emma said warily, "Time's up."

Belle huffed, "Right now?" she glared at Emma, who only nodded.

"You should go," Mr. Gold told Belle quietly, "I'll be out of here in no time. Don't worry about me. Go home and dry off." Belle opened her mouth to protest, "I'll be perfectly fine. You'll see." They smiled their goodbyes and Belle left the room, Emma closing and locking the door behind her. Alone again, Rumplestiltskin muttered an incantation that would heal the break, knowing all too well that it would do nothing. He wrapped the icepack back into the rag and buried his face into it, both contentment and frustration thickly layered in his sigh.

"I'm not sure I will ever understand what's happening between you two," Emma began as she walked toward the station door with Belle, "But I don't see how any good can come of it. You're my friend and I want to see you happy. But if what happened in there is your idea of happiness, I'm not sure I approve."

"I understand that and I appreciate it very much," Belle gave her a friendly smile, "But I don't think anyone is supposed to understand it but us. And I'm not even sure I understand it quite yet. I go from being furious at him to wanting to be with him within hours of each other. I don't think I've ever been in love, but if that's what it's like, I think I'm in it."

Emma frowned, "He certainly is a different person around you. And what you're saying does sound a lot like love. I think I know what you need right now," Emma gingerly put her arm around Belle's shoulders, "Go home, take a hot shower and think long and hard about today. After that, go to the bar and have a drink or five."

"Thanks, Emma," Belle laughed, "That sounds like a really good idea."

* * *

><p>Belle now found herself warm and dry, sitting at the diner bar and staring at the bottom of her third glass of Storybrooke's finest local brew.<p>

"What're you drinkin' for, sister?" Leroy shuffled up to the bar and onto a stool. Ruby slid him a full glass. Belle just shrugged, this not having been her first encounter with the town grump, "Penny for your thoughts," he sneered.

She looked over at him, raising her eyebrows, "Love," she said dreamily.

He laughed, "Ain't we all. Want some advice?" she shook her head no. He didn't listen, "Somebody told me this ages ago. I don't even remember who or when it was," he took a long sip of his drink, "Love is the most amazing thing in the world. Love is hope. It fuels our dreams. And if you're in it," he pointed at her, "you need to enjoy it. Because love doesn't always last forever."

Belle looked up at him. "You need to be with the person you love…" she drained the rest of her glass, signaling for another. "Yeah but why do I feel so bad? And I don't even know for sure if he feels the same way."

"Beats me, I ain't ever been in love. But I've heard it's a great excuse for drinking," he grinned and raised his glass towards her. She grabbed her full glass and touched his with it, and they both took long swigs, gasping for breath when they finally set their glasses down.

Three hours and ten glasses later the dynamic duo had everyone at the bar drinking and singing The Unicorn Song. Emma couldn't help but laugh as she walked in on the scene. Leroy was standing on the counter gesturing wildly with his arms as he told some dramatic story, and Belle was reduced to a mass of giggles as the horribly drunk elderly man she was sitting next to professed his undying love for her not so charismatically.

"Alright, Alright," Emma called out, "Let's settle down here." Leroy climbed off the counter and sat down and everyone began chatting amongst themselves and enjoying their meals. Everything looked once again like a typical evening in Granny's Diner.

"Ah Sheriff," Belle walked over to her and leaned, very heavily, on Emma's shoulder, "Here to ruin the moment yet again?"

"I said have five drinks, not fifty," Emma scowled playfully, "Come on, I think you need an escort home." Emma led Belle out the door and into the dark night. The rain had stopped before Belle had made her way to the diner four hours ago, but the night air was still fresh and the sidewalks still damp.

"What time is it?" Belle asked stopping and rubbing her eyes.

"It's just past ten, time for bed," Emma tried urging Belle forward. She wouldn't budge, "What's up?" she asked, noticing Belle's scrunched up face.

"Where am I?" She looked up at the street light, shielding her eyes. It was familiar but… not. Hadn't she just been in a tavern? Where very drunk dwarf was dancing on the bar?

"You're in Storybrooke." Emma was worried now. It had been a good two months since Belle had been out in the world, why was she confused now? And how would Archie feel about late night appointments? Emma placed blame on the alcohol, "I'm going to take you home and you're going to go to bed. You are very, very drunk."

"No," Belle pulled her arm out of Emma's grip, "No I can't go back. He made it very, _very_ clear he doesn't want me there." Belle's eyes were glazed over.

Emma put both her hands on Belle's shoulders, forcing her to make eye contact. "Belle, look at me. I'm not sure what's going through your head right now but I'm taking you to your apartment. Do you understand?" Belle's gaze cleared up as Emma spoke and Belle nodded in agreement.

They made it into Belle's room and Emma laid her in the bed fully clothed, turning off the lights and leaving once she was sure Belle was going to stay in bed. Henry's theory tugged in the back of Emma's mind and she briefly wondered if Belle was remembering something about another life. No… that would be ridiculous.

That night Belle dreamt of a tavern full of dwarves, telling one of them what love felt like, her own heart still freshly broken. Then the voices started, the usual ones telling her she wasn't wanted, he didn't come, and the hot irons crept closer and closer and she screamed and suffocated and called out for him. But how could she call when she didn't know his name? How could she express that he was the one she wanted when she couldn't remember his name?

And she remembered the heart ache when he threw out her out. And she remembered the brokenness when he told her, _'I don't want you anymore_'. And she remembered facing him, anger bubbling in her veins, _'You're a coward, Rumplestiltskin.'_

Her eyes sprung open, his whispered name dying out on her breath.

And she remembered…


	8. Chapter 8

_Her eyes sprung open, his whispered name dying out on her breath._

_And she remembered…_

* * *

><p>Friday began and ended, with everything seemingly returning to normal. But everything was not normal. Far from it. Friday was the lull before the storms: The slow churning one dwelling in Belle's mind, the one crackling with electricity and leaving Rumplestiltskin on edge, and the one trailing behind Regina, threatening to rain fire at any moment.<p>

* * *

><p>Saturday began for Belle with a pounding headache. For the last day she wrestled with both relief and distress. She finally knew why she had feelings Rumplestiltskin, but she remembered what he thought of her. She remembered that true love's kiss had actually worked, but she also knew that he never came to save her. She was very aware of the last words he spoke to her in that world, and also conscious of how he had been treating her in this one. All of these conflicting memories and emotions piled up and led to another, larger, issue. She knew the truth. But who else did?<p>

Mary Margaret and David certainly did not. Dr. Hopper, while very aware of Henry's pressing of the matter upon him, still did not. Perhaps Leroy did? He remembered about the night he and Belle first met, and even remembered most of the conversation they had. It was certainly a possibility that he was aware of the town's predicament. Of three things Belle was absolutely certain.

First: She needed to find someone to discuss this with or she might just explode. Having two realities clashing against each other inside her head was enough in itself to drive her into insanity, for real this time. But to have no one to talk to about it? No one else to understand and relate to?

No one to answer the pressing questions of 'Where are we? How did we get here? How do we get back home?' Belle was aware of the curse and its enactment, only because Regina thought it necessary to inform Belle about the deals they made and how excellent he was looking now that he had rid himself of a deal gone bad: taking Belle as a housekeeper. Not only was it enough to imprison and physically torture Belle, keeping her as a playing piece against the Evil Queen's greatest adversary, but she had to crush Belle's hopes and dreams of being rescued by him and enjoying life, seeing the world, together.

The second certainty was that Regina remembered. Evil always had that advantage and Regina was evil in its purest, most raw, form.

The third unquestionable fact bothered Belle the most. Because of this fact she found she was unable to move forward, unable to let go, unable to forgive and forget. For how can you forgive a man who has no memory of what he's done? And Rumplestiltskin, she was certain of it, had no memories of the life before.

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><p>Saturday began for Mr. Gold with a pounding headache. In the bathroom, on the floor. Regina was certainly no mollycoddled monarch. The woman could punch. But the pain he was enduring now was his own doing. As was the now ruined dress shirt he was wearing. He lifted himself up to admire his homemade repair job, the one he must have passed out in the middle of. He gingerly touched the bridge of his mostly straight nose, glad with the results, considering the disjointed appearance of it the night before. And the fact that he had been very, very drunk. But that probably didn't have anything to do with his current headache.<p>

Regardless of all forces acting against it, he knew he had to exert his influence in town. He was aware that he needed to make a public appearance and show that he was proud of what he did to Regina, and what she did back to him was nothing more than a headache clouding his thoughts. Nothing at all to set him back or even make him think twice about doing it again. But before all of that, he needed to see Belle. Every fiber of his being was telling him she was not safe, and him being what he was, he knew that magic was involved. He was also aware that if magic was involved, and it wasn't his own, it was Regina. All of this piled up and led to another, larger issue. How the hell did Regina have magic?

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><p>Saturday began for Regina with a wicked smile. Today was the day she would ruin Mr. Gold. No one humiliated the mayor and got away with it. Today was the day she would destroy Rumplestiltskin. No one threatened the Evil Queen without consequences. Today was the day she would make a trip to her father's grave. No one would be with their true love as long as she had a say in it.<p>

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><p><strong>I know, I know, really short. But I wanted a filler while I work through writer's block, and I wanted to see how this twist would be received. The more I dwell on it... the more I know that's whats going to happen on the show... and it makes me sad and pissed off and I had to incorporate it in this story line. Let me know your thoughts, and thank you for reading and supporting my creative nonsense.<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

Storybrooke was rising for the day. Many residents were looking forward to enjoying a Saturday off. Some families bustled off to the local parks to enjoy a warm, dry, sunny spring day, while others settled into booths at Granny's Diner, anticipating a hearty morning meal.

As pleasant as they can sometimes be, people will be people. And people Talk. So when Mr. Gold moseyed into the diner and waited for his coffee, there were murmurs and whispers. Some were harsh and cruel, about the brutal beast and his uncontrollable temper. Others were admiring how someone finally took Regina down a notch or two. And some whispers held hints of pity. The so well composed rich man was finally starting to crumble apart, and no one cared enough to help him.

But you can only imagine the faces and whispers as he left the diner and a lovely, young brunette bounced across the street to walk by his side.

He was just as astonished as they at her desire to walk with him. He slowed his pace slightly as she joined him on his left side, wanting to drag out the walk to his shop as long as possible without it seeming intentional. She was smiling, but it was forced. Her eyes betrayed her true feelings: worry and hesitance. "You're looking well," he muttered.

Belle relaxed a little as one of her worries was relieved: he didn't know about her evening with Leroy, or if he did, he was polite enough to not mention it. "I wish I could say the same," she answered him, "But I would be lying."

He laughed softly, "Is it that bad?"

Her real smile outshone the false one, "If you wouldn't mess with it, it wouldn't be."

He stopped and turned towards her. They had reached the door to his shop. "Who told you that?"

'_Who told you that? Who knows that?'_

Her smile immediately fell, but she caught herself and replaced it with the forced one. She hadn't recovered fast enough, he noticed, and for a moment he thought his heart stopped. Did the phrase trigger a nightmare? Or perhaps… a memory?

"I'm not a doctor," Belle started, "But I can tell it's been re-broken." In truth, she knew that's exactly what he had done. She had seen her father's knights do the same thing many times. But she couldn't share that with anyone. They'd think her mad for real. She couldn't keep up the façade, so she turned to a bush and picked at dead leaves.

He went to reach in his jacket pocket for his keys, when he remembered they were in his coat, on the hook, in the shop. He had left the store unlocked and unattended for nearly two days. "It would seem that amidst my urgency, I neglected to lock up." He held a hand out for Belle's own, "Would you assist me with examining the fallout?"

She looked at his open palm for a moment, contemplating whether or not to accept, considering her memory that at one point in time, he did not want her. At another point soon after that, he never came to save her. She decided it wasn't fair to take it out on him when he had no knowledge of what he had done. Him carelessly throwing around the exact words and phrases he had used during their time together made her sure of that. She placed her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I doubt anyone would cross you. Especially after your altercation with our dear mayor. But yes, I will assist you with examining the fallout." She smiled at him, a genuine smile, as she mocked his choice of words, despite her heartbreak that someday, he would remember how he truly felt about her, and these moments would be over. She was a fool for allowing herself this false pleasure. A fool for leading herself on that this could be something magical. That this could be true love.

They walked into his shop, but only after he had quipped 'age before beauty' and received a playful shove from Belle. He scanned the numerous shelves and walls, piles and cabinets, looking for anything out of place or missing. Belle stood in awe, this being only the third time she had been in the shop, the first time she recognized anything.

There were the dolls she hated so much, a few of the blades he had put on display in the Dark Castle, various pieces of ornate décor, and plenty of other things she had spent months dusting and polishing. These things gave her pause. Was it part of the curse that one's belongings still belonged to them? She looked at Rumplestiltskin's back as he walked to the back counter. Could he…? Did he…? Her headache started to return.

As did his. He had noticed nothing damaged or stolen, nothing moved or messed with. Save for one thing. Something that had been added. His fingers shook as he approached the box on the back counter and reached out to it. He knew that box. Knew what it generally contained.

Belle opened her mouth to call out to him, catching herself before she called him by name. She hesitated, the name Mr. Gold sounded so foreign now, albeit amusing. Screw the name, they were the only ones there. He would know she was talking to him, "Is everything okay?" She noticed how his fingers trembled as he touched the lid of the box. "What is that?" She asked as she moved around a shelf blocking her view.

He slowly found the latch and unhooked it, taking a deep breath. He was extremely hesitant as he pulled the lid up, releasing the breath and stumbling backwards when he saw the contents. Belle caught his shoulders as he tripped into her. She steadied him and moved to look inside the box herself. He leapt forward and slammed the lid shut, "It's nothing." He snapped, "Just a gift from the mayor." A very unpleasant gift, for all of his hopes and dreams were now shattered. They were blown into a million bits at the symbolism of the chipped cup inside one of the queen's boxes. Regina had Belle's heart.

He took the box and made his way into the back room. Everything was a blur. He set the box on the table in front of him as he sank into a chair, burying his head in his arms on the table, willing this to be a dream, begging whatever gods may exist to let him wake up from this nightmare.

Belle's hands on his shoulders invoked thousands of conflicting emotions. She still had a heart and she loved him with all of it. The queen's version of her heart was nothing more than a voodoo doll. But a very powerful one at that. Regina could make Belle do anything with a simple squeeze, and if Belle still refused, Regina could… Regina would… He wasn't going to think about that. He was going to think of ways to get it back, ways to overcome that particular magic. Unfortunately his knowledge of that kind of power wasn't much. He only knew the concepts, nothing about how to do it or the particular uses and benefits. And now he regretted leaving that magic alone more than anything.

Not true. He regretted sending Belle away more than anything. If he hadn't done that, he wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. He was very certain of one thing: he would do anything to get Belle's heart back. Even if he himself could not have it, he needed to get it away from Regina.

His shoulders shook as his mind whirled around and around, always coming back to the fact that it was his fault this had happened. Belle was lost in her own mind as she tried to get him to relax, rubbing his shoulders and whispering soothing things to him. What was in that box that had made him so mad? What had the queen given him? Something to make him remember? Was he upset because he remembered? Was he mad at her for being there, and he didn't know how to get her to leave again?

She had no idea what to think as he sat up and turned in the chair to face her. She bent down to kneel at his side, searching his eyes and begging with her own for answers. The only emotions she could find in his eyes were sorrow, regret, and heartbreak. But there were too many reasons for him to look that way for her to pinpoint just one. She couldn't help shedding a single tear as she thought of having to live without him again, having him utter that single word yet again. '_go._'

He smiled at her and reached up to brush the tear away with his thumb. Belle hesitated but then leaned into his hand. Her heart fell when he pulled it away, but rose back into her throat when he had only moved it to brush hair out of her face. They were still looking at each other as she finally registered the strongest emotion in his eyes, the underlying reason for all the others.

"You won't lose me," she whispered, "I'm not going anywhere." She had to stop herself from adding the words 'again' and 'this time' respectively. He turned away from her, putting his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his hands, staring at the box, deep in thought, "I wish you would tell me what's going on." She told him, still kneeling, placing a hand on his thigh. His breath hitched at the memory, and he looked at her, curiously.

"There's nothing more to tell, really," his voice was trembling just as much as her hand on his leg. In that moment he forgot about the rest of Storybrooke, forgot about Regina having a replica of Belle's heart. In that moment he knew that he owned the real one, which Belle had given to him, and would do so again. In that moment Belle forgot about the rest of Storybrooke, forgot that they weren't sitting beside a spinning wheel. In that moment she knew he owned her heart, which she had given to him, and would do so again.

"And since then," she whispered, looking up at him, begging him to understand, "You've loved no one, and no one has loved you?"

He leaned closer to her, "Why did you come back?" he whispered, as softly as he had that day, anticipating her response just as much.

"I wasn't going to, but then, something changed my mind," She replicated her motions from so long ago, leaning in and closing her eyes, giving him the control she knew he needed.

And just as before, her heart soared with the butterflies in her stomach as his lips met hers. Slow, soft, sensual. It was indeed true love's kiss.

They pulled apart, hesitantly, both anticipating a negative reaction. But none came. Rumplestiltskin smiled and laughed, "Kiss me again, it's working," he stole her words, drawing her closer and claiming her lips in a much more passionate and heated kiss. When she pulled away she was absolutely beaming.

"What is?" she sighed happily as she joined him in the chair and wrapped her arms around her neck, resting her head comfortably in his shoulder.

His shoulders fell as he caught sight of the box on his desk, and his heart began to re-break. "Belle," he started. She answered him with a content mumble as she nuzzled into his neck, positively elated to have him back and loving her just as much as she loved him, no qualms about it. "Belle, do you remember what happened after I… after you… when I…" he couldn't finish. He pushed her up to look at her, "I'm so sorry." He choked out.

She pulled him into an embrace, as his shoulders shook for a different reason than before. She held him and rubbed between his shoulder blades, whispering in his ear. She wasn't sure what to think. The mighty Dark One was trembling in her arms with sorrow and regret. She knew he wasn't crying, but expected him to at any moment. The exchange lasted only a few moments, interrupted by the door being opened and disturbing the bell. Mr. Gold took hardly more than a second to compose himself after Belle leapt out of his lap, and disappeared behind the curtain to greet the customer.

Belle was alone in the back room, and briefly considered eavesdropping, but quickly determined nothing out there could be nearly as important at what was in the box on the desk. What was in there that had irked him that much? She was going to find out. She stood and unlatched the box, lifting the lid, emitting a very audible gasp of surprise.

She lifted the teacup gingerly, so lost in her own world she didn't hear the bell signal the departure of the guest, or the soft tapping of the cane announcing the arrival of the man behind her. She jumped as an arm snaked around her waist, and she dropped the cup.

In the time it took her to realize what she had done, it had already happened. He laughed softly and kissed her temple as he held the cup out to her. It was very fortunate he had quicker reflexes than she.

"Here," he smiled, "If you'll have it,"

She beamed at him. She could play this game too, "It's chipped."

"It's just a cup." He replied as she took it from him and set it on the desk, beside the open box.

"I hope you don't mind that I looked," she fidgeted sheepishly.

"I actually," He attempted to swallow, which was extremely difficult due to the dryness in his mouth, "I actually want to talk to you about that." He leaned against the desk and Belle pulled herself up to sit on it beside him. Everything was so familiar yet so incredibly different. "After you left the Dark Castle… what happened?"

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><p><strong>So what do we think? Did that go well? Any ideas for what happens next? Any theories on how the hearts work?<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Yay! I finally have somewhere I'm going with this fic! Not too much more left though. Fortunately? Unfortunately?**

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><p>It was Belle's turn to share her tale, and it took her the better part of the day. She shared how she left the castle, taking the long way back home, meeting some dwarves and helping one of them find love. She told him of how her father was thankful she was back, but leery of what corruption she endured, and locked her away, her only visitors being priests to cleanse her soul. She left out how often she cried out for him and how often he never came to her aid.<p>

She continued with the queen coming to see her, promising to take her somewhere nicer, but only throwing her in a dungeon with no visitors but the queen herself. Belle was only given enough food to survive and enough clothing to prevent freezing to death. And then she was in the asylum. Still no visitors, still very little food and hardly any clothing, and absolutely no memory of the life before. But she was sound of mind, and that's what helped her get away and get on her own two feet. Mr. Gold was still an excellent listener, didn't interrupt her once and made the visits with the three customers he had all day extremely brief.

"I was doing just fine until I met some man in the diner who thought he was king of the world," she teased him, "And then I couldn't get him out of my head. Now I know why."

He smiled at her while he continued to close up the shop, counting the money he made that day and sifting through the mail. "You do realize I returned after you left and retrieved the money. My agreements are always honored."

"I assumed as much," she returned his smile, "Especially considering we made a deal, something about forever if I remember correctly. And here I am to stay. With you. Forever."

He rose from his chair and pulled her off the desk so he could embrace her, burying his face in her hair. "I should have never believed her," He whispered, more to himself than Belle, "I knew she was a liar and yet I trusted the lies she weaved, and ignored the truth you showed me. I am, without a doubt, the most incompetent fool in all the lands."

Belle just giggled, "What are you talking about? You are making absolutely no sense."

"Not too long after I made one of my more regrettable decisions," she looked at him quizzically, "Telling you to go," he explained, then continued on his original path, "Our friend the queen showed up. She told me you had jumped out of a tower… and didn't survive," he finished quietly, "I believed her."

"You have no idea how much better that makes me feel," Belle's shoulders relaxed and she would never doubt in her mind again how much he loved her because now there was a perfectly legitimate reason as to why he never came to find her, never came to save her. The queen had lied to him just as much as she had lied to Belle. And they were both equally guilty of believing her.

He sat back down in his chair and sighed, dreading the answer to the question he knew he had to ask, "Did the queen ever… take anything from you?"

Belle looked at him quizzically, "What would I have that she could take?" She followed his gaze to the empty box with the chipped cup sitting next to it, "I don't understand. What does that mean?" She knew it meant something more than a cup in a box to him.

"The queen likes to collect… hearts," He hesitated, "I think by putting that cup in one of her heart boxes, she was trying to tell me…" He couldn't finish.

"She was trying to tell you she had my heart." Belle said for him. "But wouldn't I be dead? Wouldn't I remember something like that?"

"That's what I'm trying to determine. If it is nothing more than an empty threat, or if she means to turn you against me."

She put a hand under his chin, trailing her fingers along his jaw, "I would die before that could happen."

He swallowed roughly, "She'll do just that. If you don't listen, she'll cause you unbearable pain, and if you still refuse to comply," he looked at Belle sternly, taking both her hands in his, "She will kill you. Promise me that when the day comes, you will do whatever she asks of you." Belle pulled away from him, walking to the window, "Belle… promise me."

"I will not make that promise." She told him bluntly.

"Belle, please-"

She cut him off, "I will not make that promise. I can't make that promise. If she would have me hurt you, I would rather die." She finished with a whisper, "We can't let that happen. We must get it back," it felt odd to be speaking of her heart like it was a material keepsake.

He stood up and joined her at the window, without his cane, so he could wrap his arms around her waist. He closed his eyes as her arms snaked over his shoulders. In less than a day their relationship had become what it should have been thirty years ago. And it was perfect, if you left out the fact that the queen had Belle's heart somewhere in her possession. He could not leave out that fact, and he would not relax until her heart was in safe hands, preferably her own.

"The sheriff owes me a favor," he said into the top of her head, "It will be difficult to get Miss Swan to go along with this but in the end, she'll come around," he reassured Belle. But he already had a plan, and it did not involve the sheriff.

"No," Belle mumbled into his shoulder, "No I don't want to involve anyone else. Emma could get hurt if we bring her into this. I think…" Belle trailed off, unsure how to word it, "I think we need to convince Regina that we mean nothing to each other. Convince her that it doesn't matter if she has my heart because I don't wish to give it to you."

"Absolutely not," he stepped back from her, "I've been without you far too long, I will not push you away willingly, façade or no." She put a hand on his arm, worried she had upset him.

"It's the only way," she pleaded with him.

"No, it's not," he limped back to the desk and scribbled directions on the envelope of some junk mail, "Belle, go home, and get your things." He handed her the envelope as she walked over to him, "I want you to come stay in my home."

"Our home?" she asked quietly.

"Our home." He agreed, "I'll be in later this evening, I have some calls to make." He grabbed his coat, taking the shop key from the key ring in the pocket for his use, leaving the house key in the pocket for hers, and draped it over her shoulders. He had his suit jacket to keep the afternoon chill away, where as she had only a long sleeved shirt. He walked with her out the door, locking up behind him, "Don't worry about dinner, I'll find something to bring home."

She looked down at the envelope and the hastily scrawled directions, still in shock. He was asking her to come and live with him. She should be elated, overjoyed. But she couldn't help but wonder why he was doing this so urgently. Was it an attempt at keeping her safe? Did he simply need a caretaker for his 'rather large estate'? Or was he lonely? She leaned up and gave him a 'thank you' peck on the cheek, not caring who saw, before heading to her apartment to pack.

"Oh and Belle?" he called after her. She paused and turned to him over her shoulder, "No cleaning." She waved him off and continued on her way.

He stood a moment, smiling, watching her go, and then glanced down at his watch. It was just after five. What a perfect time to visit the mayor.

He took a moment to pause in front of the mayor's excessively elaborate office door. Fortunately for him, this Saturday was a city council meeting (a legitimate one), which had kept Regina occupied for the day and now left her in her office, alone, to wrap up the days business. He took a deep breath, straightened his tie, and blasted through the doors. If he had his magic he would have shattered the hinges, just for good measure.

"Regina, how lovely you're looking today," he sneered at her, admiring her black eye and swollen jaw, poorly covered with make-up.

Despite the physical marring she flashed one of her most spiteful grins, "I trust you're not here to simply make rude remarks. If that is the case, you can leave. I was actually on my way out now."

"Oh no, I don't think so. I think you were just about to sit back down," he glared at her, and she obeyed.

"You received my peace offering, I assume?"

"Peace offering?" he spat, slamming his fists on her desk. "That was supposed to imply you wanted a truce? Wow," he paused, straightening back up, "You truly have no idea how to conduct proper business."

"Oh, no. You misunderstood my gesture. You have no say in this. You will obey me, or I will end her."

"So," he whispered, "You do have it." He sank into a chair in front of her desk as she leaned back victoriously. One simple word would do it. She would be forced to hand it over. But what would the price for that one be? His instinct was to do things properly. Strike up a deal to get what he wanted, completely avoiding the dangers of using magic. But his instinct had also told him power was better. His instinct made him trust the lie Regina fed him. To hell with his instinct.

He rose up out of the chair, menacingly towering over her still sitting form, "Give me her heart, in its current condition, and never do anything that will hurt her in any way ever again. Please."

The expression on Regina's face was of pure shock. She never expected him to take that risk. Or to go quite that far with the request. She underestimated his love for the girl, assumed his cowardly self would get the better of him. And now, as her hands mechanically unlocked the drawer on her desk, she regretted assuming anything. Especially when she assumed he wouldn't remember a thing of their past lives.

"I cannot wait to see what your consequence for that display will be," she snarled at him.

"I would pay any consequence to ensure her safety. Surely you must remember what that feels like? Didn't you have someone you would die for? Someone who you would sell your life away to protect?"

"Don't you dare talk about things you know nothing about!" Regina was practically screaming as she held out a small drawstring bag, "I can only pray that is exactly what you just did. I can only pray that your 'life' just fell in the wrong persons hands. I can only pray that I am the lucky one to stumble across that jewel. Then we shall really see who has more power."

He gingerly took the bag from her. He would have snatched it and stormed out had its content not been so precious. He wanted so badly to tell Regina to jump off the clock tower. _Please_. But he knew she was right. All magic came with a price. And he could only pray that if the price was going to be that blasted dagger showing up, Regina would not be the one to find it.

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><p>Belle had tossed all of her belongings in a garbage bag (she didn't have very many, and a book bag or suitcase was not one of the things she had needed to buy) and had it hanging on her back over her shoulder as she followed the directions to her new home.<p>

"Halt citizen." Belle stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, turning towards the direction of the voice and seeing Emma jogging over to her. "I am required by law to pull you aside and search your bag. You are exhibiting suspicious actions." Emma gave her a playful hip check and Belle knew she was only kidding.

"I'm sorry officer I cannot comply. You have no search warrant." She teased right back.

"Okay but seriously," Emma stayed in step as Belle continued onward, "Whatcha got there? Stolen goods? A body?"

"Children," Belle grinned, "I'm going to skin them for their pelts." It was much funnier for Belle due to past experience with the phrase, but Emma still laughed pretty hard.

"Sorry Belle, you just don't really seem like the child-skinning type. But since you're not going to imply," Emma grabbed the bag and peeked inside. Belle just smiled and held out her hand, silently asking for it back, "Is this all your stuff? I don't understand. Where are you going?" Emma handed her the bag.

"I've been offered an alternate place to stay. It's free, I think, and I jumped on the opportunity."

"Really?" Emma sounded skeptical, "Where at?"

Belle blushed, "With Mr. Gold," she mumbled.

"What?" Emma shouted and stopped walking. Belle shushed her and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her forward to keep walking, "Belle I know you are perfectly capable of making your own decisions but I don't think you really thought this one out. Don't you think that's kind of a bit much and a bit soon?"

Belle couldn't tell Emma that this transition had been thirty years in the making, and that the two of them had already lived together in another life. Or that another reason she had no qualms about this was because it was true love. Did he have alternate intentions? Most likely, but his main reason she knew was because he didn't want to lose any more time with her. Especially if the queen was up to something. But she had to tell Emma something, "I don't know, sometimes you just do things because you know it's inevitable so why not just go do it?"

"But Belle," Emma stopped her walking, "You just got out on your own. You're strong and independent. Don't you enjoy that? Why would you just rush into someone's arms? Especially his," Emma added as an afterthought.

She was rewarded with a scowl and sigh, "Not everyone enjoys being self-sufficient and solitary. He and I enjoy each other's company. What works for you works for you and what works for me works for me."

"As long as I've known him, which is longer than you," _No it's not_, Belle thought, "he's enjoyed being self-sufficient and solitary. I hope your best interest is what he has in mind, and he's not doing this for… typical masculine reasons."

Belle gave Emma a playful cuff to the back of the head, "Emma, trust me. My best interest is what he has in mind. As strange as it may seem, we love each other. Since I can't persuade you to see things my way, can we agree to disagree?" They were on the sidewalk in front of what Belle assumed to be his residence. It was… pink? Perhaps, but it was gorgeous. Two stories with a wraparound porch and a backyard open to the woods. It was a little close to the neighboring houses for her taste but could get used to it. "This is it?" she confirmed with Emma.

"This is it." Emma answered, "Your new…. home," she sniffed.

"I'll have you and Mary Margaret over for dinner sometime soon, okay?" Belle grinned, mostly teasing.

"I'll hold you do it," Emma agreed, shocking her, "If only to make sure he's doing right by you."

"I'm fairly certain he would die before doing anything besides."

Emma smiled, "I may not agree, but I am happy for you. Good luck," Emma gave Belle a parting hug and wave as she walked away back into town, and Belle walked up the path and up the stairs, reaching the front door. She took a deep breath and reached out to turn the handle, shoulders falling when the door didn't budge. It was locked, and she didn't have keys. She walked the porch around the house to the backyard.

Tossing her bag on a bench next to a backdoor she leaned against the railing, gazing out at the yard and woods. She smiled as she imagined sitting on the same bench (maybe a comfy wicker chair she might acquire someday) in the early morning with a warm coffee, watching the forest wake up. The sun started to peek out from behind a cloud, throwing warm rays out onto the green spring grass. Belle shook off the coat he had let her use earlier and tossed it next to the bag, prepping to run down the steps and flop down in the lawn, but the jingle of a key made her stop.

She picked up the coat by the neck and shook it, hearing the jingle. She paused a moment, eying the back door and the back yard, weighing the options, shifting from foot to foot. The sun was fleeting and wouldn't last, but she had been in grass before, not his house. She grabbed the key ring from the pocket and slipped the house key into the lock, grabbing her bag and the coat as the door swung open and she stepped inside.


	11. Chapter 11

**EEWWWW. FLUFF. ****I cannot believe I produced this...**

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><p>The house as a whole was very similar to the Dark Castle. There were piles of organized clutter everywhere. Rusty trinkets, broken artifacts, empty picture frames. Some objects were on tables, others in cases, and even some just lying on the floor. Belle knew he had told her no cleaning, but surely someday he would allow her to tidy up just a little.<p>

As she wandered through the many small rooms she took note of the uniformity. There was the same dark wood flooring on the entire first level, red walls in some rooms and cream walls in others, old Victorian furnishings scattered about in no particular arrangement. She meandered her way through a study, past a second stair case, and into a dining room.

A dining room with the same exact long table that was in the Dark Castle. She smiled at the fond memories as she ran her hand along the top, making her way to the kitchen, which was very ordinary. Dark cabinets, same wood as the floor most likely, stainless steel appliances. He had no dishwasher, which Belle found curious. She nosed through the cupboards, amazed at the lack of variety and flavor in his choice of edibles. She had just opened wide the door of the fridge and was poking her head in when a voice startled her.

"Looking for something to eat?" Belle spun around and saw him leaning very casually in the door frame, without his cane and with a brown paper bag.

"No, I was just making sure you weren't freezing body parts or any such thing." She replied, sticking out her tongue at him.

He laughed and beckoned for her to follow into the dining room, pulling out a chair for her on his way past to his own, "No I think I've left those days behind me,"

"As well as skinning children?" she settled into the chair as he opened the bag and placed a Styrofoam container and cup in front of her.

"Just eat," he commanded playfully.

"What if I don't like it?" she whined teasingly, "How well do you think you know me? Maybe I don't like any of this modern food."

"Well," he started, spreading a napkin out on his lap, "I know for a fact you enjoy this meal. Unless you were lying before."

She eyed him suspiciously, like the day he had presented her with the rose, and opened her container to find the same meal they had shared the night he took her out to dinner. "And if I was lying? If I hate this dish with a passion?"

"I can't imagine you hating anything with a passion, love,"

She was quiet for a moment, both appreciating the endearment and thinking about the queen's threat. She had no memory of her heart being taken, and she certainly knew she had one, considering most of her time spent with Rumplestiltskin she couldn't hear herself over its thundering. "I'll bet someday the queen will know exactly how capable of I am of hating with a passion." She said matter-of-factly before taking a bite.

He slowed chewing the bite he had taken and then swallowed roughly, "You don't have to worry about her anymore," he told Belle quietly, "She's been taken care of."

The rest of the meal was eaten mostly in silence, only broken by talk of business and the weather.

The serious conversation came later, after Belle had been given a guest room and bath upstairs down the hall from his master suite, after she had showered for the night and changed into loungewear, after he had lit a fire and closed the curtains, as they both sat silently on separate pieces of furniture, he in a chair, she on a loveseat, and watched the fire dance.

She started the exchange, she usually did, and she only hoped he would actually participate instead of giving his usual short, to the point, yet vague, responses. "What do you mean 'she's been taken care of'?"

He had been leaning forward, elbows on his knees, chin on his folded hands, but now rose abruptly, very startlingly so for a man with a limp, and disappeared across the main hallway and into the small area in front of the stairs. She heard a drawer open and close, and just as quick as it had all happened he was back, sitting on the cushion next to hers, presenting a drawstring bag.

"Is this…?" Belle asked as she slowly took it from his hands. He answered her with a single nod. "How did you get it? What did you do? What deal did you make to get this back?" she started to panic with the thoughts of what Regina could have requested he do in order to get the heart.

"I asked nicely," he leaned back against the love seat, wrapping one arm around Belle's shoulders and pulling her into his side, "Now you can relax. The rest doesn't concern you."

She pulled away, "It does if it concerns you. You are my life now. If anything ever happens to you, if she ever comes after you-" he silenced her with a kiss, deep and passionate, and she let the bag fall to the floor, forgotten for the rest of the evening.

At some point later they roused and forced themselves to think coherent thoughts. Clothing was retrieved from the floor and organized to go to its rightful owner, Belle put her heart in a safe place as he made sure the fire was completely out, alarms were set and coffee pots programmed, and they reconvened shortly after in his room, promptly abandoning coherent thoughts for the rest of the night.

Rumplestiltskin startled awake to the extremely horrid sound of some sort of annoying noise emanating from the nightstand directly to the left of his ear. An arm rose from the sea of blankets and blindly groped for the source, somehow knowing exactly where it was and what to do to silence it. The body to which the arm belonged emitted a few disgruntled grumbles, scooted closer to him, and then went silent. He, however, was wide awake, his heart still pounding after the rude awakening. A glance at the bedside clock told him it was five in the morning. What sane person would set an alarm to get up at five in the morning?

Oh, right. Belle was not sane. Belle was a far cry from sane. Last night proved to him just how twisted and wicked she could be. The fact that she was even with him spoke wonders for her insanity. But he wouldn't have her any other way. She was perfect, and she was his. And he would do everything he could to never lose her again. His eyes drifted closed as he buried his face in her hair, and sleep found him again.

As did that awful, awful noise. He must have only closed his eyes two seconds and there it was, blaring loudly in his ear. Belle rolled over and made some sort of angry remark into the pillow. He was just about ready to grab whatever the bloody thing was and crush it when she rose, with a gigantic frustrated sigh, and crawled over him to turn it off and sit on the edge of the bed.

"Why are you up?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Work," she grumbled as she stood up and stretched.

He caught her hand as she turned to leave, "Come back," he pleaded.

"I can't," she pushed some stray bangs out of his face, "I have to go. You stay here and try to fall asleep again."

She left his room and went to her own to get ready for work, and he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, cursing horses for rising so damned early and ruining a morning lying in bed with his Belle. He shuffled into his master bath and started to prep for the day, figuring if he couldn't stay in bed with her, he could at least have breakfast with her.

She was downstairs and making toast when he strode into the kitchen, pulling her away from the toaster and into him, trying to steal a kiss, but all he got was a hand on his face, pushing him away. He stumbled back, grabbing the counter for support, feeling very confused. "We're not regretting things, are we?" he eyed her.

"Oh no," she quickly reassured him, "Not the slightest bit." She pulled at his tie, loosening it, "If you knew what you did to me, you would understand. I can't work feeling like that, not thinking clearly."

Her toast popped up ready and she left him abruptly, both feeling slightly breathless. She hid it better than he as she searched through the cupboards for peanut butter. "I think I know what you mean," he agreed quietly, more to himself than her.

She sat at a small table in the kitchen, next to a window looking out at the back yard, trying to pull up a mental map of where his house was, "If I go that way through the woods," she started through a mouthful of toast.

"Don't talk with your mouthful," he chided and wagged a finger at her as he settled into a chair across from her seat, favoring his bad leg.

She swallowed, "If it hurts you maybe you should use the cane," she advised him worriedly, forgetting about the previous topic.

"No. Not in the house. You were saying something?"

"Why not in the house?" she ignored his attempt at a topic change.

"Plenty of places to sit. Now what if you go which way?" He was doing the same thing now that he did when she tried to talk about his son.

"And plenty of stairs. You're not helping yourself by being stubborn." She was adamant that he would give her a proper answer.

He furrowed his brow and pinched the bridge of his nose, putting his elbow on the table forcefully, "It's too early for this," he avoided.

"And my toast is getting cold. Tell me why you won't use your cane in the house."

He looked at her for a little while, then dropped his gaze in submission, "I don't enjoy that I need it so much. In my own home, my domain, I want to be comfortable and confident. Using it makes me feel weak, and uncomfortable."

She placed her hands over his, folded on the tabletop. "Was that so hard to say?"

"Terrible," he grimaced mockingly.

"Good. Now, if I go that way through the woods, I'll reach the stables?"

He nodded, stealing a piece of toast she had carefully cut into triangles. "Why work there?" he wondered.

"It was the only job available at the time. I've grown to love it though. I never was a proper princess. This gives me a legitimate reason to be dirty. And I enjoy working hard. Not to mention the tenants for which I care. Tough, intimidating exteriors and soft, gooey, caring interiors. Huh," she trailed off thoughtfully, staring at him eating her toast, "reminds me of someone."

"I'm not gooey," he pretended to be offended.

"No eating with your mouth full!" she practically screamed at him. He was lucky he didn't choke on the bite he was chewing she startled him so badly. He quickly recovered and realized her slip of the toungue.

"No eating with my mouth full? How then do you suppose I should eat?" he grinned.

"I didn't- oh… you imp!" she swatted him on the back of the head as she took her empty plate and walked to the trash bin, "I'm going to be late because of you." She added as an afterthought, gathering her things and walking to the back door.

"Aren't you forgetting something, love." He stood up and crossed the room to her, putting a hand on the door, preventing her from leaving. She crossed her arms and waited for him to continue, "Don't two people who love each other often share parting kisses?"

"You love me?" she inquired.

"I thought I made that very clear six hours ago," he whispered in her ear. She shrugged as she trailed a finger across his collar bone and down his chest, her eyes telling him what she wouldn't ask him to say. He took her chin in his hand firmly, forcing her to look up at him. "Belle, I love you." And the grin she now wore made him, undoubtedly, the happiest man in the world.

"And I you," she leaned up and gave him a kiss, not passionate, but meaningful, "Now," she pulled his tie completely loose so it dangled around his neck and pushed him away at his shoulders, "Go back to bed," she commanded, and practically skipped out the door and across the yard, disappearing into the fresh green of new spring growth.

* * *

><p><strong>Be warned. Next chapter gets serious. It has to be to make up for this abomination.<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

A week passed and things settled into a new norm. Belle and Mr. Gold began most of their days at the kitchen table over toast (she had begun to make two pieces instead of one, considering he had the nasty habit of stealing her food), she would head off to work and he would ready himself and head off to his shop. They would join each other for lunch in various places, his shop, the park, Granny's, home, wherever she picked, he would meet her there. She would return home before him, a combination of her earlier start to the work day and his after work business to take care of with the local citizens. While alone in the house she started to organize and tidy up the place. Soon she discovered he had quite a bit of floor space in some of the rooms she used to consider cramped. She would also make dinner and have it ready by the time he got home. The time after dinner was spent… together. Belle never did get to try out the guest bed. She didn't mind.

Today was Sunday, the first Sunday in May, which meant he had several payments to collect before opening up. Belle had already headed off to work so he took advantage of his early morning to make a few calls before opening the shop. He decided to visit Granny's to collect and get a coffee after terrifying the pharmacist and receiving that payment.

He waited for his coffee, apparently there was some issue with the brewer and his order was not a priority over the lovesick Snow and Charming's. So he waited. And was painfully aware of eyes boring into him. He glanced over at the wolf-girl, seeing her biting the end of a pen and looking straight at him. He shot her a nasty glare when she made eye contact and she blushed and turned back to the coffee pot. His relationship with Belle clearly wasn't a secret, but it was exclusive. He only hoped Ruby was aware of that, and shuddered at what could have been going through her head.

He realized someone else's gaze was trained on him and he casually looked over his shoulder to see the motorcyclist lounging in a booth and suspiciously eyeing him over his glass of water. Rumplestiltskin shifted uncomfortably as he took his coffee to go from Ruby, left the diner, and headed to his shop, very aware of two lingering gazes.

His morning was uneventful, and he was quite disappointed when Belle could not meet him for lunch. Something about an expectant mother and needing to be there. He didn't pay too much attention to the details. He was busy watching the leather clad biker leaning against a wall across the street, looking right into Mr. Gold's pawn shop. A thought briefly crossed his mind, but he shooed it away. That would be… impossible. Right?

"Are you listening to me?" her voice scolded from the phone.

"Yes." He lied.

"So we're in agreement that you'll wear a dress in public?"

"What?" he shouted into the phone.

She laughed, "Relax. I knew you weren't listening. So I'll ask again: what do you want for dinner?"

He sighed in relief. That woman would be the death of him someday. He didn't mind. "Anything you want, love." He looked across the street. The man had vanished, "I have to go."

"Okay. Please eat something for lunch. I'll see you tonight." He heard her click the phone off and he smiled as he pocketed his. She would never tell him she loved him over the phone: too false. Sentiments like that should only be shared face to face. She also would never say goodbye. According to her there was no such thing and such a horrid phrase shouldn't exist.

He meandered into his back room and slumped into his chair. What on Earth was that shady character doing? And why did the man suddenly have an interest in him? The bell above the door jingled, and Mr. Gold rose, anticipating some answers to his questions. He had barely rounded his desk when the curtain separating the shop floor from the back room was pulled back and the shady character in question appeared.

"And what can I do for you?" he flashed the man his most intimidating smile, hoping to scare him off, and took a few steps forward.

The bloody bastard just grinned back, "I'm looking for some answers."

"Maybe we can work something out, considering I'm searching for the same thing. But first," he paused, "I need your name."

"Ah, I had a feeling you would ask that." The man started to pace, almost… circling him? "You, like me, believe in something."

"And what, pray tell," Gold snarled, "is this 'something'?"

The man paused, making eye contact, "That names have power. Don't they, Rumplestiltskin?"

He only let the shock cross his face a moment, and quickly recovered, smirking, "You've been talking to Henry."

"You know I keep hearing about this Henry kid," the stranger resumed his circling, "I've only met him a handful of times. He sounds like he knows what he's talking about. But no, I came up with this theory on my own."

"What theory?" he spat.

"That you're Rumplestiltskin." The man answered bluntly.

"What makes you think that?" his mind was spinning, trying to place this fool who so arrogantly strode into his domain and practically challenged him. What did he want? What was his purpose? He couldn't possibly have found… no. He couldn't have.

"I noticed things. Noticed you. Noticed your… houseguest. You see I know a little bit about everybody in this town. But I'm not here to tell you who I am, or even to talk about who you are. I found something. I want to know what its worth." The two men were standing next to each other, and the most unwelcome guest pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket and held it out to Gold.

He took it, and opened it, looked at it for a bit. Felt his stomach drop and the blood drain from his face. He folded it up and handed it back to the man, "That's not worth anything," He walked away and onto the shop floor, fully intending to show him out the door, maybe literally kick him out, just for good measure.

The epitome of arrogance, he followed onto the floor but then settled himself comfortably against the glass counter, crossing his arms. "Oh I didn't dare bring the real thing. I've got that kept in a nice safe place. I was going to keep it to play with on a rainy day, but I think I've found another use for it. So I'll ask again. What is it worth? More specifically, what is it worth to you?"

"It won't work. Not here. Certainly you've tried and figured that out on your own." He could feel his blood boiling, the twisted half of his conscience telling him to kill the boy now. But the sensible part of him knew that he would be right where he started, that blasted dagger floating around and him having no idea of its whereabouts.

"Yeah, I tested it out a couple times. I do know that it will still let me take your power, should I decide to end you. But someday, this place is going to fall apart. Maybe even literally. And when that day comes, you're going to wish you had it in your own possession, and I'm going to wish I had you as an ally."

"Are you making a deal with me?" Gold slightly relaxed. This was more comfortable and familiar, this was something he could control.

"No, not right now. I want you to think about your reasons for wanting to live. And then tonight, you'll meet me at your cabin in the woods. And you'll tell me yes, or no."

"I don't understand. What is anybody getting out of this?"

The stranger eyed him stonily, "We need your power to win. Now we can either make an unquestionable alliance, or I can sacrifice myself and take it from you. Either way I get what I want. You need to decide if you would rather live, or die." He paused a moment, letting the option sink in, "August. My name is August W. Booth, and I hope you have a nice day Mr. Gold. I'll see you later tonight." August left the shop, waving over his shoulder, leaving Rumplestiltskin to boil and stew over this new turn of events.

* * *

><p>Belle was just putting a casserole on the table when she heard him come in. And felt. The mirror on the wall behind her shook with the aftershock of the door slamming. "Rum?" she called out warily. She heard angry footfalls as he stamped his way into the study, and slammed the door to that, too. She knew then that something was seriously wrong. She hadn't been living here long but he had never closed the door to the den. She remembered this side of him. It had usually ended in something exploding, but without his magic how would he vent?<p>

She ditched the oven mitts on the table beside the casserole and walked into the main room, past where he had ripped his suit jacket after yanking it down on a coat hook so hard, over the tie he had shed and thrown on the floor, through the sitting room, almost tripping on a shoe he had kicked off, and to the closed door of the study. Knocking quietly she called out to him, "Rum, dinners on the table. Will you come eat?"

There was a thud against the wall. She figured it was his other shoe, and that it meant no. "Can I come in?" she called. She heard some slamming of drawers and the smack of something against the top of the desk. There was some brief clinking and then all was quiet. She tentatively reached out and took the handle of the door and, upon finding it unlocked, opened it.

He was leaning against the wall, looking out a window, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass of whiskey. She would almost think he was in a perfectly relaxed mood. But she knew he only drank when he didn't understand, and she had heard the way he shut the doors. She knew now was not a good time to make jokes, and she probably shouldn't even be bothering him.

She didn't push her luck by going to him. She knew he wouldn't hurt her but she didn't want to upset him more, so she pulled herself up to sit on the desk and waited for him to talk to her. She watched him for a good five minutes, seeing his jaw twitch as he ground his teeth, watching him down glass after glass. Finally he spoke, "What do you know about August?"

August? August the month August? What was so important about that? "Umm… It's… I don't… I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at."

He scowled at her, "August. The man with the motorcycle."

"Ah, I see. His name is August?"

"August W. Booth," he informed her, mockingly

"I think he and Emma get along, you'd do better asking her. Is this about him?"

"I think I know why he came to town." He took another drink and left his place by the window to sink into the desk chair. He leaned forward and scowled, "I think he might be here to try and kill me."

Belle's world stopped turning for a moment, synchronized with the momentary pause of her heart. "Why would you think that?" she squeaked out.

"He told me as much. Just this afternoon. Came into my shop and practically threatened me into doing what he wanted." He had put the glass aside and placed his chin on his folded arms.

"What did he want?" Belle lovingly stroked his hair as he tipped his head to rest against her thigh. She was trying to be strong for him, and not fall apart. Someone had threatened his life and she was ready to come undone at the seams, but she had to be strong for him.

"He wants me to pick a side. If I don't pick his, he'll kill me."

"The casserole is getting cold." Belle whispered, "Come eat." She slid off the desk and took his hand as he followed her to the table. She was about halfway through her helping when she spoke again, "How long do you have?"

"Tonight." He tried not to notice how all the color drained from Belle's face. There was a knock at the door, and she went even paler. "It's just the sheriff." He told her as he rose and went to answer it, throwing the napkin from his lap on the table. Belle didn't listen to their exchange, she could only hear the blood pounding in her ears. Was this a trap? Set up by Regina? Who was this August and what side was he on? What side of what?

She knew Rumplestiltskin didn't like to pick sides. She knew he played up to both ends, never worried about who won or lost, only what was in it for him. She didn't think it made him selfish, just opportunistic. But now someone was going to force him to do something he clearly did not wish to do, and if he did not comply… she couldn't imagine life without him again. It would be worse because she would remember. She would know he was gone, forever. And he wouldn't be coming back.

"Hey," Emma smiled meekly from the doorway to the dining room. Belle was jerked from her thoughts and looked back at her with watery eyes, not returning the smile. She leaned in her chair trying to see around Emma.

"Where'd he go? Is he back in the study?" She needed to tell him that whatever this man wanted, he needed to make his own decisions. Don't worry about what it would do to her, do what he himself needed to do. She would be fine, she would move on. Truthfully, she probably wouldn't, but she shook it off. That was later, this was now.

"Yeah… he… took off." Emma rubbed the back of her head, trying to cope with the awkwardness. Gold had stopped by an hour or so ago and called in that favor she owed. Emma was to stay with Belle at the house and under no circumstances was Belle allowed to leave. He needed to sort some things out and he might not come back. If that was the case, it was up to Emma to take care of Belle. Emma was also not allowed to interfere in any way, despite the legal shadiness of the situation.

"He what?" Belle's eyes widened in terror and panic, "He left? He's gone?" Belle shot up out of the chair but was promptly pushed back down by Emma.

"He's taking care of some things. He told me to keep you here."

"Taking care of some things?" She scoffed, "He's going to be killed, Emma. You have to stop it! August is going to kill him!"

In her head Emma knew that if that's what this was about, she was completely and entirely obligated to interfere. But no matter how hard she tried, something was keeping her from doing anything but drag Belle into the sitting room and set her down in a couch, trying to calm her down. After what seemed like an eternity, Belle had finally sobbed herself to sleep, and Emma could finally relax.

Meanwhile Mr. Gold stormed down the sidewalks of Storybrooke straight past Granny's Diner and into the Bed and Breakfast behind it. Regina may have the mother lode of skeleton keys but he had a few of his own, and they served their purpose well. He glanced at the box of room keys on the wall behind the counter and saw that only one was missing. He very nearly silently made his way up to room two, pausing a moment to listen at the door, and slipped his key into the lock, the door swinging wide.

A quick glance around the room told him the bloody sap was probably already out in the woods waiting for him. He paused and closed his eyes, trying to see if he could sense the daggers presence. It was worth the time to make sure the dagger wasn't strategically left behind, make sure he wasn't being swindled and tricked into captivity. Wherever it was, if it was even around, it wasn't nearby. He looked in drawers and under the mattress, peeked behind the dresser and checked the walls and floor for hidden compartments, just to be sure.

When he was satisfied the room was empty of his second most coveted possession, he left and headed to his home in the woods, trying to figure out how this happened in the first place. Oh yeah, all bloody magic comes at a bloody price. He doesn't regret what he did. He got a fantastic week with his Belle. But now he had to decide. Offer to serve and obey an individual side of the war effort? Or hope that by the grace of the Gods he would be reunited with Belle in the afterlife. It should be an easy choice, one he should be able to make without any moment of hesitation. But he is a coward, and being freed from this worldly prison certainly has its perks.

He wishes he would have taken the car as his bad leg starts to stiffen and each step gets more agonizing, both mentally and physically. Then he feels it. The pull of the dagger, and he knows now for sure that this blasted incompetent moron truly did stumble upon it. He sees the reflection of the moon on the pond through the trees and knows he is close. Knows he must make a decision. He slows and watches August pace along the side of the pond, turning when he hears Gold's shoes on the gravel path in front of the cabin.

"Have you made up your mind?" He calls. Rumplestiltskin can see the glint of his toothy smile in the moonlight.

"I'll be honest, I haven't." he sniffs as August approaches him.

"Oh, good. That makes things easier." He pauses a few feet in front of him, and Gold leans heavily on his cane, "You see I had a little time to do some thinking myself. And I kept coming back to the same conclusion," he raised the dagger, prepping to run at him. "It's better all-around if those powers are mine."

Now is not the time to be cowardly, but Rumplestiltskin takes a step back, "Careful boy," he warns him, "Power can be very seductive. But trust me when I say," he gestures to himself, "You can't handle this." He's referring to both the power and his own physical abilities.

"Try me," August snarls, and runs at him. He braces himself, and uses August's own momentum to swing him around, but the dagger still catches him in his side. He crushes his arm against August's windpipe, but knows it's only a matter of time before the man recovers and kills him. He doesn't have time to process what his next move is because he is wrenched away and thrown to the ground. As he recovers he realizes he isn't being pursued. In fact, there is a battle going on and he isn't even involved. There's a giant splash as something, or someone, falls into the pond. The moonlight catches on something near the door. His dagger, on the ground, completely forgotten. He drags himself over to it, the pain in his side excruciating. He gasps as he finally feels the cool metal under his fingers, and clings to it like a lifeline, slumping against the wall of the cabin, and closing his eyes.

Belle is crazed with passion, and the need to protect the man she loves so much. Traditionally the roles would be reversed, but no one decides her fate but she, and tradition will be the last thing she listens to. So when Emma thought Belle asleep and left her only a moment to use the bathroom, Belle sprang into action, leaping out the door without even putting on shoes. A good thing too, considering she was now knee deep in a pond, with the mysterious August W. Booth crawling backwards away from her through the water. She didn't know how she even knew where to go, all she knew was that the man she loved was in danger, and she had the power to do something about it. So she followed her instinct and happened upon a horrid scene, despite the fact that it looked momentarily as if Rumplestiltskin was winning.

She didn't wait a moment, had only pushed him aside to get at the foul man herself, hitting and kicking and driving him straight into the pond. Now he stumbled to his feet on the opposite bank, bloody broken and scared, and peeling off into the darkness. "Don't ever try anything like that again, you hear?" She shouted after him. Turning to face Rumplestiltskin she was grinning from ear to ear. A grin which quickly fell as she saw his condition. He was in obvious pain, gritting his teeth and throwing his head back against the wall.

She rushed to him, whispering words of love and comfort, none of which he heard as the world started to spin and blackness encroached, soon pierced by a bright white light in front of him. Despite his finally decision to do be on whatever side August was on, despite his vow to never leave Belle alone, he had failed. He was dead and gone, and she was alone and scared. The only solace was that leaving that night was his final mistake; now he would never be able to hurt her again.


	13. Chapter 13

Watching him sleep was one thing. It was easy. It was peaceful. It was not this. This was hard and painful. But she had to be strong. There would be a time to let go, a time to let it all out. Now was not that time. Right now Belle had to be strong and make decisions and preparations. But every time she looked at him, she almost lost it. His face was not relaxed and gentle like it was when he was sleeping. It was despairing and agonized. It was the face of a man whose last conscious moments were of pain and suffering.

So right now, she didn't have it in her to be strong. The tears fell as she whispered words to unhearing ears, planting kisses on his cheek, his forehead, the corners of his lips, the tip of his nose. They had been together only a week. After thirty years of separation they were given one week to reconcile and start over, until tragedy struck yet again. She sat up and wiped away her tears, pulling herself together once more, and turned out the light.

* * *

><p>The initial bright white light had faded to darkness, and then blasted into an even brighter light. One muffled voice turned into two frantic ones, and then quiet sobbing, and soon many cold harsh voices. After a while all of it dissipated to a warm light, and a single muffled voice. As the voice became clearer so did stiffness and pain. But certainly this was not hell. And there was not a chance that it could be heaven, no way, not for him. The warm light disappeared and all was dark. Only when the warmth beside him returned did he even realize it had left, or been there in the first place. He pulled it closer, lost in the dreams of another life spent in a castle with a beautiful young maiden that was brave enough to love a beast.<p>

The warmth abruptly left and the light clicked back on, startling him into opening his eyes, finding himself face to face with said young maiden. "You're up!" she gasped, smoothing back his hair.

He was completely and entirely confused. "What?" Looking around he realized he was in his bedroom, in his normal house, not a castle, in a normal town, not an enchanted forest. But Belle, his Belle, was still the same, and was here, staring at him like he was the most amazing and wonderful thing she had ever seen.

"You're awake. The doctor said you wouldn't be up until tomorrow afternoon."

"What the hell is going on?" he tried to sit up but she pushed him back down, he followed, especially after feeling the pain that came with moving his waist.

"Woah, easy. You're not supposed to move for several days."

"I don't understand. What happened? Why am I here?" she just giggled in response and lay down next to him, nuzzling against his cheek.

"You are absolutely adorable when you don't know what's going on. I'm not going to answer you, just so I can enjoy this a bit longer." She sighed happily and he closed his eyes as her breath tickled his cheek.

"Please tell me," he whispered.

"Oh alright," she complied, sitting up, "What do you remember? About the night you met August?"

He thought long and hard about it, finally recalling that night, "He told me he didn't want to bargain, he was just going to kill me. And we fought, he stabbed me," remembering that helped everything else click into place, including his current condition, "and at some point for some reason he was forgot about me and was fighting someone else. And then I saw my-" he paled, "My dagger, where is it?" he grabbed her wrist in a panic, bolting straight up in the bed, regardless of how badly it hurt.

She ignored his question and filled him in on what he didn't know, how she had escaped Emma's watch and found him in the woods, and attacked and drove off August herself. Emma had a hunch that if anything bad was going to happen, his cabin in the woods was the place to be, so she had driven out there in the police car, the bright light he saw were the headlights. She drove him and Belle to the hospital where they determined the extent of the damage and stitched him up. Luckily it had missed internal organs and had only destroyed muscle. Belle had tried to explain that he was only stabbed, but the doctor was insistent that he had been burned. Apparently being stabbed with your own magical dagger did a little bit more damage than a stab wound.

"Speaking of which, where is it?" he begged, "I need to know. If Regina finds it-" Belle silenced him with a kiss, reaching over to the nightstand, then taking his hand and pressing the hilt into his palm.

"I took it from you when Emma showed up. Everyone is under the impression that August took the weapon with him. You never told me what exactly this is, but I know it must be important to you. You should keep it in a safe place." She started to rise from the bed but he caught her wrist.

"Belle, this dagger. It… it's my life, in the most literal sense. Whoever has this dagger, when things go back to the way they used to be, they will control me." He turned the blade so that the hilt extended towards her, "I can't think of a safer place than with you."

She rose abruptly and left the room completely, leaving him alone and dumbstruck. He didn't even have time to ponder if he had done something wrong before she returned, holding something in her hands behind her back. She sat back down beside him, smiling wickedly. "I'll make you a deal, Rumplestiltskin." He shivered at the way his name rolled off her tongue, "I will guard that blade with my life, if you guard this with yours." She held out a small drawstring bag to him.

"I can't possibly keep something so precious as that," he shook his head, "that needs to be kept in a very safe place."

"I can't think of a safer place than with you." She pressed the bag with her heart into his hands and took his dagger in hers, "Do we have a deal?" she was grinning insanely.

Because Belle was not sane. She was quirky and spirited and so, so brave. And sometimes he wondered if he would ever be able to tame her. But he wouldn't have her any other way. She was perfect, and she was his. And he would do everything he could to never lose her again. It may not always make sense, and sometimes it may hurt, but love is the most wonderful and amazing thing in the world. Love is hope. It fills our dreams. And if you're in it, you need to enjoy it. You need to be with the person you love.

**The End**


End file.
